‘The clouds don’t care,’/ he said. Blowing a puff / of cigar smoke at me/ from across the porch. / I sent a pretty good / smoke ring back his way./ We were not / six feet apart, so could/ be killing each other, should / the virus hitch a ride upon our exhalations ...
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OP-ED LIMERICKS: “Folly”; “Canary, Meet Coal Mine”; & “Worthless Borders”
What do you get when you mix Donald Trump with a Limerick Master—and a little bit of animation?You get Molotov Limericks. Here are the latest 3 in an ongoing collaboration.
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The Poet On My Shoulder
I have decided I don’t need a shelf of poets in my life, right now. One, two or three—will do. But who? One’s for certain. I travel with him these days, tucked into a pocket of my rucksack.
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Other People’s Poetry Break: W.H. Auden
When all the things you read sound like noise, propaganda or sales pitch come-ons (sometimes, all three at once), then it's time turn to Other People's Poetry, for a break. In this first of a series, Auden's homage to fog.
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The Christmas People Put this Hat On Me
The Christmas People put this hat on me. A bright red hat with thick white fur. And a big ball that blocks one eye. So it begins.
