What a Way To Go

As a consequence of
A troublesome bout of
Lower back pain—
Intimation of mortality—
I’ve recently begun imagining myself,
And it’s gotten so it’s hardly a stretch,
Retired, you know...

Read the rest of this poem at That Oughta See Us Out blog.

Lloyd or Floyd?

In the beginning I thought the neighbor’s name was Lloyd but BFF insisted it was Floyd. Now we compromise and call him Oyd, and not just between ourselves. On the occasions when the man is due a shout out, we swallow the beginning of the name but end it firmly. This innocent social deception has been going on way too long for us to comfortably ask Oyd again what his name is.

Il Teatro Pescatore – Part 2 - Pinball Becomes Carpo

A flying fish with the face of Groucho Marx? Giant clam shells dripping pearls from a pirate's booty? Head of a goldfish swollen a thousand times its natural size? What creatures we are to have such creations spring from our minds, eyes and hands!

Read the rest of this post at Il Teatro Pescatore blog.

Slug Haiku

Slug in oblong niche
W/D and all mod-cons
No pumpkin this year

Over and Over Again

...We laughed, muttered,
Staggered in circles,
Tried on faces and voices,
All across the wide backyard.

My mom was
In a suburban rest home
Not far away,
Up on the top floor
In a sheltered wing
Called Comfort Cove...

Read the rest of this poem at That Oughta See Us Out blog.