Lumps appear under my skin
wishing them away doesn’t work
some look like mulberries
There are ones with greenish hues
others blue-black, juicy and ripe
these are the ones I want to bite into

I remember that great mulberry tree of our youth
down by the creek
We climbed that tree and sat for hours
on hot July and August afternoons
devouring juicy dark purple fruit

Our mother’s called as the ballgame dispersed
and we pretended to be nowhere in sight
or within ear shot
We knew the way home

And as we stared at each other’s stained
magenta toothy snickers
faces, hands, tee shirts
even ears and grimy hair
We made a pact
to eat our way to the tippy-top
of that delicious, decadent arbor

I’m home, again
noticing that mulberry tree no longer exists
but I see you at times
and you kindly wave to me
upon passing
I know there’s no need to wait around
till July or August
as I don’t expect our summer dares
mulberry gushing ecstasy
will ever be again

O to be the fertile compost
down by that creek
where a mulberry tree might grow
Again

Flit To Me, My Pretty
or Dance Of Kinglet

Sing, “tay-tay-tay,” all the day
carry on in morning sun
bouncing on sandy stream banks
Kinglet friend of mine
Your yellow crown, breast of cotton down
O be lost daydreams so fine

This is what twitting really is
Euphoria found in flash
discerning your small “tay”-ing song
milkweed fluff you find
act as if you are stealing, no crime here
milkweed glad; spread seed as kind

Wash yourself amidst these puddles
preen yourself for mating
You’ve made a nest for nothing other
how sweet your callers come
rock a vantage point of eternity
from here we see all succumb

This rock and I

Multitude of moth
drawn to light
black of night outside window
Wings of white, a hundred score
maybe more
all wish to pour in
absorb

What are these desires?
exertion bouncing upon windowpane
some beetles eating other bugs
Easy to know their intentions

But about the bouncing spotted ones
What of this light that pulls them in?
electric fervor
Are they pulled, by some force of fascination?

No worry to the bat
being drug and tipsy winged
millions a fluttering feasts

Wish I were that bat
Wish I were just one of those moths
Wish I could fly
Into the light

So I haven't had time
To read many prose and rhymes
Sneaking pretty words like drugs
From all the **** poem writing thugs
Hide up under the bar
I've only read two so far
Work is cutting in to my addiction
Reading and writing, my affliction
Maybe I can hide in the storage closet
That gives me time to write one comment
Jotting rhymes on my arm
Who said poetry didn't cause harm
Its my obsession
This is my confession
I cannot hide it anymore
I recognise I'm a poem *****
I go from one poem to another
"Feeling" them up like a lover
Then on to the next
For more word ***
Yep, I'm a ******-poemac
Addicted to poetry crack
Your pretty words are my drugs
And you **** poets are the poem writing thugs

There's relevance
everywhere
and nowhere
and I don't care

It's all a hoax
and one big joke
and he's a bloke
don't have to smoke

So bide your time
having heart's a crime
in your youth sublime
Don't pay no mind

It's all indifferent
and not significant
we can all be flippant
and there is no difference

Troubled as you are
Likable star by far
when you raise the bar
You might fly to Mars

So take it all lightly
though it seem unsightly
we're all rightly mighty
when we're keepin' it tidy

In our soiled tighty whities