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drumhound Feb 2018
On a wood slat bench near City Park Lake,
I blew dusk into darkness on clouds of an exhausted Cohiba.
Dry, starless, midwestern summer shadows
sound like one-handed applause wrapped
in padded outrage. A rogue drake stirs unseen behind
nearly visible bushes at the water’s edge.
The rest of the tacet brood turn
condescending beaks at his faux pas.

It is the silence of trespassing,
disregarding closing time,
defying petty ordinance
to the tune of two frogs and windsong.
The empty side of my lips
curl in half a smile.
The appall in a proper rent-a-cop
would be irreverently rewarding.

Life doesn’t get any better than this…
At least it feels so now in the dizzy,
near fainting, larger-than-normal ****
on a larger-than-normal cigar. Regardless,
it’s a fine moment in time.
drumhound Oct 2017
she would miss her children
if she ever admitted they were gone.

dusting shelves still full of trophies
placing fresh daisies on
her daughter’s bedside table.
it’s hard to tell
how long the girl has been gone
the cut flowers uncomfortably alive
with mom’s weekly replacements.
this bouquet is one hundred fifty six.

her dead son’s shoes still peek
from under the bed
by his football and box
of cards which he kept
marking his birthdays,
his loves and his losts.
her only brush with reality
comes with floor hugging sobs
reading historic Hallmark memories
returning each one exactly as
she found them.

the dressers are full of
left behind clothes
neatly and compulsively folded.
the kids never leave if
you never stop taking care of them

and you never have to admit
you’re alone.
drumhound Sep 2017
There are two types of people in the world.
People who don’t have enough shoes
and people who…

There is one type of people in the world.
People who don’t have enough shoes.

The poorest people dream
of one pair of shoes-
a right and a left,
a pride to possess.
The not-so-poor-people dream
of two pair of shoes –
one pair for casual,
one pair for dress.

The not-so-poor-
but-not-so-rich people dream
of four pair of shoes-
one black and one brown,
one to walk and one for play.
The not-rich-but-better-off-
than-the-not-poor people dream
of multiple matching shoes-
one for each outfit,
a new pair each day.

The richest people dream
of endless lots of shoes-
two for every outfit
winter, spring, summer and fall,
some that match their pets
and some match nothing at all.

Yes, there is one kind of people in the world.
The kind who love shoes,
and that makes us the same
black, white, yellow or blue.
So, let’s love all people,
people with shoes.
And give shoes to the shoeless
so they can be loved, too.
drumhound Aug 2017
It was a small book
he gave me
full of empty pages
and promises.
Like dads who pull quarters
from behind their childrens'
a son
hopes there is magic
in a blank book.
So, I drip letters
from my pen
stacking them
like dragons
or a
or a
memory that smells like
the honeysuckle we drank
on bicycle rides.
I pray he finds
a quiet place
where he can hold these thoughts
as firmly as held
his Ninja Turtle sword.
My oldest gave me a special writing book without any qualifications or parameters to fill them. The first page is taken up with this reminder of who we are to one another.
drumhound Jun 2017
When I dream
I can taste her
running down my face
warm in afterthoughts
full of joy
tinged with fear
that I'll never get enough
or be enough
but I cannot stop wanting her
warm in afterthoughts
running down my face
when I dream.
drumhound May 2017
she twinkles over meadows
at the dusk of the day.
she mesmerises sweethearts in the dark.
her light is captured treasure
sought for mason jar displays.
i ran to catch her warm endearing spark.

among the other glowers
in the field of the dance,
her light shines always brighter than the rest.
with pure and whole intentions
i pursued in true romance
til i trapped her love inside my bottled quest.

i held her as possession,
admiring as a prize,
a crystal trophy worshiped at my whim.
she smiled a forced conviction
always giving through those eyes,
but her light, possessed, began to slowly dim.

some light is made for holding,
some light is made to stay,
but she was made for freedom like a lark.
i loosed her o'er the meadows
at the dusk of the day
to luminate more lovers in the dark.
drumhound Apr 2017
Here's a small verse
For my Dwarf pal, Porter.
It couldn't be much shorter.
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