richwrapper

(November 20, 2022)

“Woke” Want With The Sun

not extra portion of guilt

‘sides, I’m pink, not white!

hedges in which I may pee

I don’t need no girls’ bathroom!

*(Yeah, I know: title should have read: “Male, And Of That, Damn Glad!” and that keeps the preposition off the end like a good writer should. As to the hedge-bit: interior and unobservable from the outside – did you know some men have been cited and have had to register as a sex offender for peeing on a pine tree whilst searching for their golf ball in the rough? Shameful, no?)

November 12, 2022)

spaghetti sammich

whole wheat ‘ghetti reboiled

chicken thighs swimmin’

the canned artichoke hearts sweet

save the banana for a snack

(September 1, 2022)

You’re “Pushing It,” J

read three – no, four! -books at once!

keeps chores stacking up!

Thass Okay, I can sleep late

when I’m nice and safety dead!

(August 5, 2022(

go chasing rainbows

fly-casting fish in the dust

both worthwhile prayers

*(Celebrated author of “Dune” series And So much More…Santaroga Barrier, Dosadi Experiment, et al.)

(April 15 – 2022

Inscrutable Juice

just writes and even when wrong, right

and teaches me still*

*(Thanks, Pal, on your haiku 2664, which I just reblogged with the above hastily added.)

(April 8, 2022)

My new Go-To quirk:

“Buzzard Breath”- it’s got more class

than foul Bison’s last parts*

now, just why I’d go easy

on a fool – go sniff That Bird!

*(For years I have muttered not mutely at all “Buffalo Balls Breath” for those wanting my attention who know not the ear they are given into which to screed works only partly at best, but the PETA people protested my insensitivity most adroitly. So I have responded. I switched the bull bison’s nethers to a better foil: do you actually see where those carrion-eater birds stick their faces? Yeah, I know: someone – or thing’s – gotta do it to give the dead-‘possum-in-the-road people a bit of a break, but Lawsey, Mercy! tis might even get them noisy nosey P-People off my case. Here: just take a whiff!)

(March 30, 2022)

must i remind me to apologize

or renounce time and continue to graze old sorrows

some profess the grass greener with beaten breast

and there are professionals who do that best

we call them media

who make gigs into big deals

and memorialize their not-truths

almost so adroitly as a ducking

candidate who sees shells fall – or was that stolen too

from another’s not-memory sold so much money

for so few books touched

which purpose was made manifest

by donatives

for just one more running sore

I swear

tomorrow’s yesterday will be done

in brothels called newsrooms

and bars parading as joyful

where bottled bits of depressives

compete with the real knockdowns

treated by unshamans holding forth

keys to pharmacopia’s alltherage

Never heard the rocket-grenade

That Got Me

and I aver it’s better that way

than disremembering each nuanced whine

slapping air at that-side’s ear

the brief breeze of a near-hello

hollows a bile-ous presence bringing to mind

an old saw:

shotatandmissed –

shatatandhit

which would you prefer…

withorwithouttissuethintoilettowelsforapuckeredanusain’tnowayreadytorelease

or

a sideslip into a warm(ish)beer hidden in aluminum nightmares

or a smiling face frothing cold(nearly) beer with an egg and v-8 into a tall but most-likely dirty glass

as the trio of combat correspondents and photographers wage peace down highway one

between LZ Baldy and Song Thu Bon

a wack-out patrol of pards going goofy

mid tour in some phantasmic not-painting

waiting for the next whistling to rush past

god could these poor gooners ever shoot straight

so I don’t have to remember not to drink and walkabout

in two-column stagger-formation

shouting the next one of you bastards sets off a landmine has to buy the next round