On a soggy day reading soggy poets
searching for something to say.

They moan of rain, drone about blackberries,
wail about trees and the meaning of mud.

What’s to be found there?
Even footprints are lost.

Gray matter marinated in meter and rhyme
wordy intoxicants abound till nothing matters
– much.

My dog bathed and brushed
fluffy as a puppy.

The other snoring lightly into a comforter.

Haikus cradle the ferry road.

The sonnet sea wombs our island dear.

And I fan a spark so hard in the dark.

But alas there’ll be no flame tonight.



© 2018 Robert C. Leung