The Neighbor’s Cat


Should I take offense?
What does it mean, then, when
The neighbor’s cat pukes
On my deck? Heck, I don’t
Know. It must mean something,
Right? A bad day in the sunlight,
Too warm, sleep too deep?
Mistaken kibble for meow-mix,
Or over-spiced vole viscera?
Perhaps moonlight too bright
For a proper prowl. So, did you
Mean to offend, or was this just
An offered trophy gone bad?
Disgusting—but no offense taken.

The Rebirth of the Green Onion


Green onions
Are often rooted out
To be sold as groceries

The hopeless plant
Is chopped into pieces
And fried in a wok

One of the lucky bulbs
Is planted in a flower pot
And nurtured

Thus, this green onion
Is reborn
Where one’s heart is settled
There it is the hometown

This green onion
Never bends down
But grows into a bud, blooms, and produces seeds
And the seeds are spread to other places

Many years later
This single bulb
Turns into a sea of green onions

Under the sun
This sea of green onions
Are vibrant with straightness, forcefulness, and robustness
And vibrant with verdancy

In wind
This sea of green onions
Sway into sprays, waves, and billows
And sway from generation to generation

How to Swing the Seafood Minuet
 
I don’t waltz into a room as much as cha cha. But then, I never had much luck with 3/4 time. I’m your standard four-on-the-floor kind of guy. Keep it simple, and don’t confuse me with your high-stepping sorority graces, girl. We’re going to move our lips and shake our hips. We’ll be doing the monkey time before midnight. Of course, anything can happen. The floor can drop out from beneath us. Or the needle can get stuck in a groove and never make it back to the chorus. Despite what you think, making a good first impression is the secret to faking your way through most anything. Before we go any further, let’s stroll over to the seafood buffet. I hear the crab legs are so fresh they dance the mambo on your plate. 

STAND UP

After reading Kafka’s Hunger Artist,
I thought about becoming a stand-up comedian.
When I told my wife I was thinking of
putting together a comedy routine about
my sex life, she said, “That won’t
take long.”

Last night I looked in the mirror and saw
a haggard old man with wrinkled skin and
bags under his eyes. I called out to my wife,
“Maria, I’m feeling terrible. Help me out.
I need validation. I’m falling apart.”

“Well,” she said, “your eyesight is still ok.”

Say What?

Hot and heavy, a night of passion
Leads to the moment when I say,
"We shouldn't do this without a
Raincoat."  A pause and she says,
"I've got an umbrella."

“Middle Aged Me”

My fingernails were clean enough
to read Milton in university
as I stayed away from the campus bar,
believing in textbook knowledge
being my saviour, but middle aged me
has dirt writing poems under my nails
and palms with lines like hand drawn routes
on a map with the sort of certainty
guaranteeing I’ve gotten lost so many times
that I know exactly where I am now.

what it fears


darkness

it is when all the
evil souls do their
best work

when the imagination
gets to visit what it
fears

dance with a raven-haired
devil and lose yourself in
the silence

each moment in this
fleeting desire savor,
let it kill you

we are nothing but wasted
time

all that which holds us back

eventually, either death
wins or you stir a little shit
up before the knock at the
door comes for us all

embrace that pain that
never ends

as with anything, it is
only looking for love

a warm body to shelter
it from the cold
------------------------------------------------------------
sweating bullets

 
scribbling poems
in the afternoon

sweating bullets
in the cheap air
conditioning

a sweltering
lament hangs
in the air like
a sudden doom

everyone can
feel it coming

the inevitable
nature of this
life

more downs
than the ups
could ever
eclipse

you can't help
but ponder a gun
in your hand or
learning to knot
a sturdy noose

the hollow eyes
of the woman
you love

she stopped being
here years ago

saw one too
many sunrises
to be happy
ever again
-------------------------------------------

Talk to Stone


Humans may not know
How to talk to one another

Poor souls
Gape soundlessly

Conversations with a stone
Yield better outcomes

There’s always detail   
Unyielding 

Complicity Theory
Sociopaths and criminals in power. Frauds in the pulpit. Cities in ruins. Children in overcrowded refugee camps or underequipped hospitals or graves. I was once a news junkie. So much darkness on display and so many still on their knees at the peephole of misery. If there’s a God, He must be a real shit, the parking lot of the condo complex where I live filling up at dusk with BMWs, Mercedes, Porsches, and massive American-made SUVs, the last also the car of choice of death squads all over the world. 

The Funeral
 
At the gym, he waved me over, and when I replied
“No, I’m not going” he cocked his liver-spotted head
to the left, mouth, now opening and closing
like a fish wanting back in the pond—as if my
declaration forced him to unstitch the previous
eleven seconds, his pupils dilating, unfocused,
but now fixing on some obligation lurking ten
feet behind my head.

I’m done with funerals.

What duty do I have to someone on the job
for twenty-five years, who wrote only blank pages
of conversation? Colleague? Co-worker? Associate?
Someone who rebuffed all intimacy, as if
children, spouses and beer didn’t exist.

Glancing at a now vacant weight-bench, I tried to reel
him back in—“We weren’t any kind of friends you know,
just two people who worked on the same floor for years.”

 
Will You Buy My Book?

Welcome to the reading tonight by John Buck,
who needs no introduction. John will you say
a few words to start us off?

“I write mostly in blank verse, trying to
capture the luxury found in everyday
actions and experiences.

will you buy my book,

my writing is metered but not formal,
no sonnets, cinquains or villanelles.

will you buy my book,

favorite subjects are birds, flowers, kids,
relationships, and running, sometimes
I combine all four,

will you buy my book,

And I’d like to end my introduction by
thanking my host, Jane Smith, for this
invitation, and all of you for attending,

will you buy my book,
will you.
Will you please?”