These Ribs

These Ribs

the necessary barricade

I have shacked up with you

Animal
Set my sails to the wind of your lake
What will it bring?

You have chanced it with me
Let go of ninety-nine red balloons for the scarlet one

Said goodbye to kin
For this random drop in a billions' ocean
All on a prayer and a hope

We've made a new world
Like Frankensteins
- cause Adam and Eve fell long ago -
And we're some way along but aware it will be only some

So we each inwardly hope the other is
All that

And really, our best chance is in
Telling one another all this

from the heart to the heart

Men and Boys

The dog with

the gentian mop
Cropped
like
my blue and green
top

Followed us down the
pot-holed street

It sniffed her butt

Cocked
a hairy leg

and just as swiftly
left
Carrying off the scent

sternum like a wishbone

Village No People

This village doesn't begin a thing
and complete it right then

That's just not who this village is

With its rows of tomatoes that
stud the year's earth

From clement to sodden weather

Like a mayor's regalia,
heavy in the wind tunnel, swinging

The patina of population wears strong and thin
Strong because the number is many
Thin because the commitment is not

The village
This village, has a visitor book and the memory of a handful
of tomato-planting bursts of sunshine

They were who populated her
at her inception

As a result, the tomatoes grow taller than
the non-existent village walls

Can you picture it with me?

So big and red and round
each one and with that chalky-flesh texture
that sits just under the skin

The rotund tree ornaments dominate and
kind of twitch a little in the low wind

Or less a twitch and more a twerk

And sometimes gentler - they bob; when visitors come, they bob

They play on the air just that little
In the long, the lengthened row, on each side, going all the way up

To the village's front door

Where through
a salt spoon has started counting out
It's set on its side

A duster is flapping with fury; dusty, oily and ready to die

There are a few tea pots
No cracks

This village is careful - In slow action, quite thoughtful

It picks a plate-sized seed
from the inside tenderly of its guardian vegetation,

looming in mock authority

Stops short of calling such archangel

Then plants that seed softly to grow
false hope in the furthest row of rows which,
looking now, as village alone does,
widen in lines that NASA can identify

alongside isn't ahead and isn't behind

These Ribs

unshoe me

Not a Nice Valentine

Tightly he wound the flowers up
Kissed her as he held them out
Limply she took them red and white
They lashed and bit and fell about

You hurt me, said she
But I gave you flowers, said he
He did - he gave with animosity
I took them, said she
You dropped them, said he
She did - she took uneagerly

r e p l a c e