Short Poems #2

Bob, , , 
A Wooden Moon

A trumpet in a time travel movie
Of humans with tigers for brains.



Snippet

Late summer is a constellation, all stars and goldenrod,
A sonorous field, of insects and the nearby highway.
The first red in the leaves. Rocket-blue sky.   



The Void

Plainly, in matchstick ash,
On the asphalt.

At minimum, 
What particles are in play
In the dark.



Of Ethereal Biceps

It’s spring
And the moon is the wick
And I have only matches
For wings.



Observation 


The daft insect
On the pane

Like the photocopy of a verse.



Notes #3

I spent all morning 
With 
A trilogy of daises,

The 
Galaxy
Between my ears.

I spent the afternoon 
Feeding poetry
To pigeons.   

And stars, depending on mass, 
May end up as holes
In the ground of the universe.

Distance is one of poetry’s geometries.

14 thoughts on “Short Poems #2”

  3. As others have commented, there are some astounding lines throughout this collection but my favourite of the collection is Notes #3. I love the trilogy of daisies, the galaxy between your ears and the feeding of poetry to pigeons. Wonderful.

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  4. I keep finding myself saying WOW when I read your poems. As Gordan S. Bowman lll says up above, “unexpected.” yes, that’s what it is, the surprises in every line, “feeding poetry to pigeons” or “humans with tigers for brains” and “Rocket-blue sky.” I know I’m repeating myself with the praise of your work, but it’s well deserved.

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    1. Thanks, Steve. I really appreciate that. If I ever get laid off, I plan to spend a lot of time with the pigeons, under rocket-blue skies and think about those future humans with tigers for brains. That’s the dream.

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