chip, chip, chop
goes the woodpecker
gnawing at the plank
till it hits the core

chip, chip, chop
it gets closer and closer
pecking at high speed
till the exterior crumbles

chip, chip, chop
grasping for breath,
removing what’s unnecessary
till the hardened truth is out

chip, chip, chop
how can you live like this?
when is enough enough? when is it time?
till you drop dead in the middle of the night?

I was handed
   a glass full of life
And begged to
   to partake

To drink up
   he drunk
To swallow
   and forget
the strife

Instead of
   sweet dreams
Swilling concepts
   sprung to life

The more swill
    I swallowed
The tighter
    the grasp
I would yield

The pressure
    so great
The glass shattered
    life spilled

The blood
    gushed
But it was
    a relief

Just a pain
    I could understand
Something real
    I could handle

for E. M. A.

<•>

a conglomeration, a pastiche,
two  Italian words affixed,
without hyphen, space, signaling
unity, a merger of a perfect sensory
morsel,

every language unicorn unique with
overlapping skin cells, entangling roots,
so do not be surprised when you,
who speaks not Italian, yet the brain
reverses the words in your eyesight
and is instantaneously understood

I love this letteral literal littoral
literacy
connective tissue that is a humans binding, and oneof my greatest lessenings, is that never
achieved real fluency in my cousined
romance languages, though oft inserted
in my scribbled poesy, for the emphasis
of satisfaction when saying
certain words in a related language carries
a style, a tune, that elevates its conceptually


so friend, multi lingual,
aware of my affection for
mixing, mining words of
multiplicity, makes, creates
a new word just for me:

which deserves a plain old perfect
WOW!
poetfriend
friendpoet
will never sound
as rich, inherently
musical, poetic
as saying:

Amicopoeta

I went outside to look at the meteor shower

The sky was grey and foggy
The air was damp and cold

I tried to see the falling stars
But could only see the grey white sky

I wonder how many showers I’ve missed because of a stormy sky

I wonder how many falling stars I could’ve wished on