THAT KIND OF THING

THAT KIND OF THING

hungry for poetry

a nibble
a banquet

ravenous, you say,
we can whip
up a smorgasbord
for you

dream up a thousand
variations of
honey mustard pickled sushi
                                           alone

should your
predilections incline
you

  cast you
before all and sundry in such a way

you find yourself a helpless sucker
for that kind of thing

****

X (FOR XMAS) MARKS THE SPOT

a little
red cap
mushroom

all you need
to tell you
it’s Christmas

get you to
imagine you see
Santa’s elves,
German shock troops
climbing out of
their trenches to
dish out Bavarian cheer

every chimney
turned horn of plenty

every fairy lit tree
groaning under the weight
of what
    came into being
this day

****

CUCKOO

know
a bird

accustomed
to line its nest
with newsprint
during each
and every
famine of poetry

this
   during the age
of folk wisdom
before we
all
went digital

before information
eschewed paper, expanding
exponentially
virtue of
its own self-importance

cuckooing all
its sphere
        as it collapsed under
sheer illusory
weight of
its gravity

induced
a black hole

****