Monday, January 30, 2012

The Garden G'nome

Woe is me, a little too
late. Barking at the cherry
moon. Hound dog in the kennel
crying “Ain’t that bastard’s
singing sweet?”. The garden
gnome still stands alone
spitting watermelon seeds at
shooting stars ‘cause sunshine
doesn’t clean his dirty soul.

Yet Another Pigeon

Drip Drip

Drip, drip, drip,
one little drip can’t think,
can’t check my oil.
Bop-ba-da-dop, bop-ba-da-dop.
Too much for plastic wrap, too much
to throw away.
Somewhere
in the Netherlands a man lays back
and cries “Help me! I can not drink this drip, drip,
black, rum, coke and bloodshot
button up tie.” In the after life
Geronimo walks
with both eyes closed. Through pip-pap-tink-
tink-tink-pap graves. God bless
this Holy soil,
this rain.