a basketball haiku

final breath of air
From the free throw line
triple-reverse tomahawk
with authority.


copyright (c) April 16, 2003

a lesson from winter

Raindrops pattering
for independence
are arrested and cuffed
for abiding the law of gravity.
Then snap-frozen to penrosic ashes
while coping with brain freeze.

Those better served
commence by aligning themselves parallel
before converging to a vanishing point,
giving speeches of solidarity
but meaning dissent--
splitting upon impact.

copyright (c) April 13, 2003

cat litter

You ate my leftovers
when i didn't say you could.
It doesn't matter
that I never said you couldn't.

You still did it
anyway.


© March 05, 2003

it is not as bad as it seems

Reach for the sky,

fish in water.

Wrong turn.

I didn't see the car

there was nothing I could do,

I thought some daisies would cheer you up;

now i am one of them.


© February 15, 2003

An Addendum to Keats' "On Death"

III
If pain's his fate, should he deny himself the bait,
Though his heirloom's but a beggar's keep?
What more is left to contemplate?
Whether he ought to trade in his clown suit
He wears to sleep.


© September 7, 2002

Neither Will You

Remember that day
You walked past me
And whispered something?
Anything.
Impaling my years and
Leaving me boisterously
Mute.
If only for a moment;

Which is more memorable,
That forgettable frozen tale
Nestled under the
Rule of the April sun,
Or afterwards stretching to
Peak beyond the
Mountainess plains of
Spurned Fate,
Where I can
Disembark from my
Carousel of
Baffled reminiscence
For more than eternity;

And if you don’t recall,
Like the way my
Memory bespeaks,
I beseech you to not
Besiege me with
Your hollow points of
Screeching laughter
Loathing
For reprisal--
To forget,
Find happiness
And start anew.

© February 03, 2002

A Dream Sequence

Beneath an overcast of ashen trees,
I dreamt of walking through vanilla fields
Again, where Frosty and I played that day,
Before giddy gnomes kidnapped him away
Like stolen fruit returned to the garden.
I lay listening to whooshes of wind
Hurdling through as the tempest gave chase
To native ghosts once all so commonplace.
Next, I lent my ears to the echoes of
Raindrops crashing to ripples of pond,
That doused my curiosity ablaze,
Not to mention an evening of charades
I’d played with the siren who asked me to
Tickle her luscious firs and lonely loins
Before treading upon her demure fallow.
Now, ambivalent forces swept o’er me,
Like a tsunami of storied battles
'Tween wishful thinking and reality.
A crestfallen mood I found myself in,
Now awakened by an epiphany—
Have my nocturnal fixations come to an end?
(Honorable Mention-Best Poem, Medlennium Literary Journal Spring 2001)

© February 28, 2001