dark pointed spires of spruce

reflect in the cradled pond

like stilettos silhouetted

against the soft glow

of zodiacal light

announcing

the dawn

upon us

all

 

–Photo by me

If we run out of red someday

A sorry place it’d be

We’d rue about Ol’ White and Blue

From sea to shining sea

Our stop signs, lights, and firetrucks

Would lose disparity

While Bibles, wines, and danger signs

Would forfeit clarity

Christmas would be only green

And Santa’s suit just white

And Rudolph’s nose would never do

To guide them through the night

A hydrant turns into a pipe

A barn into a shed

Yes, life would simply be no good

If we run out of red

Perhaps our loss of it someday

Will drive us to the stars

For if our world runs out of red

We’ll have to move to Mars

I stumbled

Upon the edge

Of the world

Where Space-time

Continues not

No man nor god

Can fit here

In this stark

Nothingness

So profound

It strikes fear

In my heart

And yet I

Somehow

know that

The beyond

Is reality

And this?

This is

The dream

–Photo by me

Alas, the brand new clock I’d bought

Soon prompted my dismay,

For twelve o’clock was blinking

On its digital display.

My boss would soon discredit

My occasion to be late:

An electrical malfunction

I could not substantiate.

 

I called him on the telephone

And told him what transpired–

I told him I was sorry

And he told me I was fired.

I smashed the clock and cut myself

And in the trash it flew;

They say that time can heal wounds,

But it can make them, too.

2:24 AM

The infant

In my arms

Demands

That she be

The center

Of the Cosmos

The minutes

Tick by slowly

As grandpa rocks

 

The creaking

Hardwood floor

Is trying

To get me

To remember

Some old

Ozzy tune

The minutes

Tick by slowly

As I rock on

 

Selfish now

But in 18

Years or so

She will

Sacrifice

Every part

Of herself

For another

The minutes

Tick by slowly

Prophets of doom

Have always said

That any day

We’ll all be dead

 

The end is near

The veil falls

An Earthquake

Breaks the

Temple walls

Hell freezes over

Donkeys fly

In Chicken Little’s

Falling sky

The Mayan calendar

Runs out

The trumpets sound

The angels shout

The Son of God

Comes back again

A comet brings

A fiery end

Atomic war

Destroys the nations

Shiva’s wrath

Aborts creation

 

Prophets of doom

We still are here

We only wish

You’d disappear

A thousand years

Has passed again

And so

The comet nears

The priests prepare

The virgin lass

And now

The god appears

They play together

In the sun

He looks

Within her heart

And finding what

He’s looking for

He knows

He must depart

The comet circles

‘Round the sun

The god

Soon disappears

And harvest

Is delayed again

Another

Thousand years