The Billionaire’s Apologia
I pass this wretch sprawled agains
and idly but with studied bonhomie
drop into his cap a dollar bill,
while wondering at the deep dispar

Times there are
in dreams and days
when I behold
with hollow eyes
a happy horde

A Funeral Cortege
Verse now slain by latest dogma,
down the cobbled street come mourn
trundling Verse’s coffin forward,
charging all to note the corpus,

“St. Chris’s statue on my dash
Will surely keep me safe,” he said
But then one day he struck a pole
And hit the dashboard with his hea
Oh, woe! Six-inch St. Christophe

Get meat, a gobbet red and rank,
something gamy from a back-street
ring with bits of pork and lots of
with herbs for accents eastern;
and finally steep in a fishy stock

Autumn in Florida
Smug live oaks drop a leaf or two,
Acknowledging the time of year;
Droll cypress take from this their
Turn rust as if their end is near.

Freedom*
Now, the fathers, having suffered
gave unto their begotten plowshare
seeds
that their begotten might also pro

No, birds are not lizards; birds a
I’ve seen a grackle rush from here
for no apparent reason.
I’ve seen a lover-loser
stab the earth with tiny beak,

Give Me More Light
Give me more light
I’m getting desperate here, you kn
show me what you’ve got
is Ann Landers still around?

Domesticity
The jelly cleaned off the worn lin
the laundry folded and put away,
three children washed and bedded,
Thelma kicks off her floppies,