April is the pouring rain
Frog beats and birthday wishes
Warm nights and short clouds
Wrapped in foggy breaths.

Day by day they glean more knowledge of their fishy world.

While the old philosophish still argue over watery definitions,
geolofish have dug deep down below the rotting leaf mould
and declare the world is made of shingle.

Meanwhile the astrophysifish have theories about
how it all began, Big Splash the main contender,
and speculate on whether there is life beyond the Pond.

But the frogs just laugh at all this. They know the delicate
taste of slugs and snails. On summer nights they sit
on stones to take the air and contemplate the stars.

rising from the underworld
cradling the first seahorse
conceived by the unknown
goddess and god
brilliant dream
straight from the abyss
where a flicker of light
energy
ascend out of the darkness
micro creatures frightened
like a sleeping Godzilla
appearing out of nowhere without limbs
magically flying in the currents of the sea
dating back 13 million years
peaceful mission spreading beauty
kind mortal eyes dreaming of your fascinating ways
while others eat you into extinction
with possibly only 20 or 30 years left
aren’t we all floating around?
like frogs in cold water
heat generated in our minds from stupidly and avarice
slowly warming the situation
until we’re all dead
think about the connection we all share
extinction by riding on beautiful creatures coattails
success that should be slapped in the face
awakening

I wanna just sleep all night out here.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCCCXLIV)


Out where the bullfrogs loudly chorus, dense
Night cut by lightning flashes' silent tale
Above the North, an airplane's voice in frail
Excuse at intervals 'non slicing thence
Through deeper calm as crickets' throbbing sense
Of playing at second fiddle in the pale
Chill keeps time, where ne winds pass through t'avail,
Yet as the moist air smells like summer, whence?
I wonder.  It's like camping as it were
Upon the city's edge, where trucks sift through
The intersection, cars now too, but fer
All that none speaks.  Clouds are worn fragments blue
E'en watches melt away.  And ne soul'd stir.
I hug my knees and wish YOU were here too.

20Aug18b

I tried my luck  
with catching frogs,
and must have found my prince.

He picked me up
when I was down,
and hasn’t dropped me since.

afore the rains fell
river dwelling frogs croaked
in a profuse thrum

I hope I die in summer

on a humid night
when the grass is yawning and stretching out
toward the moon,

and the frogs are croaking on
like a chorus of metronomes
as the last curls of life wisp away from my body,

a final reminder
that things and time
will continue beautifully,

harmoniously,

without me.