Category: Book o’ Verse

My son cried out in the middle of the night
and I went to him and I picked him up
and I cradled him and we rocked for a bit
in the sliding chair
with a blanket over both of us.
And then either he peed on me or I peed on him.
I’m not quite sure.
But I think he peed on me.
And I was three-years old again
except now
I could clean myself
and I was laughing.
So I dealt with the pee
that he’d piddled on me
while my wife cleaned up
our boy and the chair.
Then we called it a night
and he slept straight on through
all dry, all clean.
Me too.

Sudden roar.
Minature Thor.

Why'd that
bee sting
my eye for?

(with a sideways nod to Robert Creeley)

Sitting and snacking at the local tea shop
surprised to be sucking up
whole tapioca
in a wide straw.

  Bloop.

Endlessly
elevating.

Fat and flavorless and full of --

  Bloop.
Bloop.

Never smooshed
though smooshed
should be
in my not-so-smooth
smoothie.

I almost never do this.
Almost. Never.
So clickety close to never.

  Not never actually,
Not actually "never."

But like -- this close.

Cat-pinned
warm butterfly
me beneath the blanket
with my warm beneath the blanket
in my crook
she's a tack
pinned me down
till I flutter flutter
stop.

she stays warm
I can't move
she don't care.

and I stop.