I’m a streaker, I admit,
And (mostly) I’m not proud of it.
It’s simply easier to do
The same again than something new.
I ran one race the year it started;
Now I might be broken-hearted
If I had to miss a year?
There’s something not-so-healthy here.
I don’t think I’m OCD
But isn’t everyone (two, three)
The slightest bit compulsive when
The other option’s start again?
If I’ve put in a ton of time
Toward running, learning, writing rhyme
Or nearly anything and built
A lengthy streak, I can’t but wilt
A tiny bit if interrupted.
It’s as if the deed’s corrupted
If a multi-hundred run
Of instances is re-begun.
I know, it’s good to take a break.
Too much is always a mistake.
I know all this…and yet…and yet…
I mean to quit, then I forget.
And so, as K.V. wrote, it goes.
I streak, but mostly wearing clothes.

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

In Term It Tent Cove Rage

This is just in case
Once again the satellite
Wanders off the grid

Posted in haiku, poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Poking The Bear

I don’t think a dog should wear
A shoulder holster like a bear
Or law enforcement chimpanzee.
I like my dogs unarmed. Agree?

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Dressing In The Dark

My shirt is blue.
My tie is, too.
There’s something red
Upon my shoe;
They’re otherwise
Azul as well.
My slacks are…khaki?
What the hell?

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Trouble: Shot

That annoying whine
When we turn the TV on?
Turns out it’s just me.

Posted in haiku, poetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment


Rodents 0, Poems 2
Piping works, but words do, too!
A better mousetrap? Maybe not,
But vermin flee from what I’ve got.
Although my outfit isn’t pied,
The rodents left and no one died.
I’m quickly calling that a win
Before they all come back again.

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Little Bunny Poo-poo

Silly bunny on my lawn,
You squat. I wish you’d not. Begone!
You lift that little tuft of cotton
On your bottom, and the rotten
Pellets underneath fall out
Upon the grass that months of drought
Have worn into a state precarious.
I think saying “poop’s” hilarious;
Seeing it destroy my grass
Is less delightful. Move your ass,
I beg, to some locality
Resistant to fecality.
You’re welcome anytime to graze
Or even piddle, but I’ll raise
A strong objection if you poo.
Verstehen Sie? Please say you do–
Or, rather, won’t doo anymore.
That’s what my neighbor’s dogs are for.

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments