Showing posts with label poem15. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem15. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 27, 2016


For Tom it started at 30.
A baby, a business, bread
always to pull from the oven.
Rick asks logistics
filler or intel
how important are the machines,
do you know the formulas?
Recipes you mean?
Yes all the pastry gets pulled
the night before.
Keep the spirals fingertip clean,
crimp the edges with a fork.
Is hell an overcoat and tiny dog, 
a downtown bistro with no meatless salads.
Or are you a lounge singer on a cruise ship
who passes all the primo fishing spots
and never gets to dock - -

Monday, January 25, 2016

BOBBY PINS



Do they drive you crazy crazy
the trails of women
amidst the good dog’s hair
anger, like in an Updike paperback
lethal  with vacation sand
is there anything to be done
like forgiveness, like sweeping
to merge the mess
or make an asterisk
something that won’t 
look worse
in daylight.