Rules Are Rules

You shouldn’t mow the lawn when wet
That’s why I haven’t toweled yet

Fine And Dandelion

Shh! You hear that? That’s the lawn,
Invigorated by the showers
Overnight. The clouds moved on
But blessed the blades with superpowers.
A week at most before it’s gone,
Whose dead grass now needs mowing? Ours.
(Also, all those yellow flowers.)

Strategic Retreat

I didn’t beat the lawn today.
I dropped my gloves and walked away
Before the final weed was mown,
Thus harvesting the seeds I’d sown
By choosing allergy avoidance
Over overgrown annoyance.
I do not concede defeat.
In Vegetation vs. Meat
The altercations never stop.
I’m bowed, but will come out on top.


I’ll stand up to stray raccoons
I’ll play your favorite song on spoons
I’ll carve you valentines in runes
But I won’t mow the lawn

The pollen makes my eyelids swell
My alveoli start to gel
I gain a painful sense of smell
Until the hives have gone

The neighbors say their eyes are sore
Complain our curb appeal is poor
But I don’t listen anymore
Because my ears are stuffy

All right, you win, I’ll cut the grass
Then spend the weekend on my ass
Until the histadizzies pass
I hope you like me puffy

Dispatch From The Field

Day 3: Approaching normalcy.
The histamines are in retreat;
My sinuses are nearly free
Of mucus, like an empty seat
At rush hour on a crosstown bus.
The lawn is mocking, beckoning:
Don’t mind the weeds, come play with us!
It’s not their day of reckoning
Just yet. Though they’ve defeated me
In spring’s first skirmish, this is war.
Grow, broadleaf, massive as a tree!
That’s what my Fiskars Stand-up’s for.