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June 1, 2015

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Poems

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Rhyme Of A Modern Morning In The Monday World

1. Steering Wheel

The grass is watered, the weeds are pulled,
the stomach is fed (the soul isn't fooled),
and the engine is warm but the movement is cold:
as the object is gripped, the thought loses hold.

2. Radio Dial

Silence is silver but gabble is gold
(the truth is priceless and rarely told),
and the spin is new but the news is old:
a show of interference, logic lost in the fold.

3. Intersection

The pavement is worn but the path is the same
(the signals are crossed, the signs unnamed),
and the eyes stare ahead like a rifle taking aim
in a moving picture with cracks in the frame.

4. Gridlock

The weeds are watered, the flowers are pulled
(distraction is sharpened, the dream is dulled),
and time is for sale but the moment is sold:
tires inside the lines. Shapes inside the mold.

8 thoughts on “Rhyme Of A Modern Morning In The Monday World”

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