To Invent this Morning 1. Skidamarink-tuned ditty about minty dentures to awaken my bride. 2. Fresh blueberry, rice, and canned venison breakfast for my dog. 3. Banana, peanut butter, coconut milk, and bacon smoothie for me. 4. New whistle to interrupt my dog’s snow graffiti ritual near the house. 5. Shower-steamed mirror doodle of a swanlike man juggling top ...
Midlife Poems
Siri-ously: An Ode to Siri?
Please define gratitude, Siri. The definition of “gratitude” is: a feeling of thankfulness and appreciation. Siri? Did you accidentally summon me? From the depths of my heart I want you to know how much I appreciate all that you do for me. Who me? Yes, you. This is about you, not me. No, Siri, this is about you. I’m trying to thank you. I’m just a humble virtual assistant. (Source: "Ode to ...
Compost
I've called it munge, the Daily Munge, for two decades, a term I pilfered from an article about archeology and layers of detritus compressed, transformed over time, long-long time. But the article vanished. Or maybe my memory invented it for want of an apt metaphor. Munge. Unverified. And while it’s served me well enough over the handwriting, typing, and dictating days since, I have begun to ...
Memento Mori by A. D. Hope
I noticed today the loosely wrinkled skin On legs and arms, no defect, no disease But simply signs of time, the body's decrease Of power and of repair as these begin The ultimate indications of old age. ~ A.D. Hope ("Memento Mori" via Australian Poetry Library) I return again to memento mori, not to wax morose or moribund but to remind myself to laugh and dance and take nervous risks and strain ...
Inguinal Hernia
Hospital sounds and smells. My bride and three nurses Surround me, comfort me. Scrubs. Questions. Needles. Surgeon arrives, fly unzipped. It’s too awkward to tell him. He marks the incision spot, Reassures me, and departs. I’m sleepy, drifting, dreamy. Jolly discovery, that bulge below the belly... An inguinal hernia. Likely earned in the saddle of a bike, pedaling upward on mountain roads, ...
Speed
Foot off the gas, Feather the brake, Rock in my gut. (Source: "Speed Trap I", 40x41: Midlife Crisis Postponed) This comes early in a three-part poem called "Speed Traps". Driving too fast. Again. Pardoned. Thank you, officer! This poem cycle is actually about driving a car, not a motorcycle. It's been many moons since I rode motorcycles. But I still dream, daydream, relive roads/rides. Update: ...