Joe wants to know
how'm I doing?

an innocuous query,
little can he know,
bye bye is my merry,
marooned on a skerry,
noxious fumes in the aerie,
currently inhabiting  my foreheady,
worry waves, rolling thunderous tides,
have myself beside

thus the answer to your toll,
something bad, on me, got a hold

Joe,
life is,
more than a tad
concerting

concerting?

surely you meant
converging, or perhaps,
concatenating, or concaving?
discombobulating, or more likely,
plain ole disconcerting?

indeed, all of the above,
fit like a glove,
but best combinated in steaming mug of
concerting

"to contrive or arrange by agreement: to plan; devise"

the world is secret contriving,
the world is secret devising,
a plan for my demising,
forces are concerting re me...
most concerning,
as trends converging,
concave hollow chains clinking,
a concatenating chorus
voicing their displeasure,
at my happy existence,
which now gone,
its loss, wept for, in great measure

life dissing me, in a manner
concerting and dis-concerting,
my composure,
decomposing,
the ides of depression,
hip hop discombob-
(undu)lating throb
but then again,
what's in a word,
what's in a rhyme,
jes that old timey R&B;,
rhyming and blues,
of a verbal kind

so, Joe, how'm I doing?

now that you are knowing,
as men of distinguished letters,
students of history,
part time poets,
Your Reply
must only be:

"Oh no, Natty,
say it ain't so"

and anyone who finds solace in the company of poets


Adorn us
with you writing,
run from the smug,
the pretentious non-believers
into the arms of poets
who awaiting
your new words
with the hard panting hunger
of true lovers

this is my simplest invitation,
Grace us with you grace,
with subtle signs kiss our heart places,
for poetry,
good and bad
has never turned anyone away

and never will**

accept this write
with permanence of ink on paper,
cannot be erased or taken back
mine, yours, ours,
ink invulnerable to
delete

here here, are the preeminent
awaiting all your attentions,
feed us, you poets,
rivers, railway stations, unfamiliar gods,
Missouri to Malaysia,
the images
we neglected,
too far away for our limited vision,
but that you saved,
as gifts of touching lips,
miners in the crevices of the soul

I thank god for the company of poets and the kindness daily,
they bring to hearts,
all I ask is,
more...