Wrightings

  THE END OF JAEL AND SISERA (by ANTHONY TROLLOPE) JAEL was  sitting  the day  arrive mean  hoping  to see Clara,  and make her fail found it  impossible  to say  painting-room, during intervals  A man  allowed fifteen minutes  on  offers  and his heart;  had  twelve minutes  The turban! mean time,   Brought explaining  favour  in respect  she ought a  little more liberty  On this occasion  his friend,  able as  he had wished  the matter  himself. found  talk  exclusively  about  affairs.

 A poem of grief with rhetorical questions and a little rhetoric,  An onion skin peeled  leads to another onion skin  not quite dry. The one  that will make you cry. Why do I go from tapping my toe  to a song to the tears  running down my face?  Both are universal responses.  When will this end?  Like the onion in evolves over time. The knife cuts the skin,  blood spills like onion juice.  Both burn.

  Bottom-Dweller Beneath the shimmering surface lurks a creature vital: the Bullhead. of the catfish family, true survivors, From distinctive barbels to parental dedication, Bullheads offer the tenacity of freshwater life. distinguished by their smooth, scaleless skin barbels around their mouth sensitive chemosensory organs, underwater antennae to detect food in murky waters. body shape is somewhat stocky, coloration varies mottled brown or olive green; dark olive to black; or yellowish sides and a paler belly. sharp, serrated spine located at the front of their dorsal and pectoral fins deliver a painful prick a mild venom, a deterrent Preferred homes slow-moving or stagnant waters muddy, or silty bottoms. ponds, lakes, reservoirs, rivers, even ditches. amongst dense aquatic vegetation submerged debris, Bullhead a testament to ingenuity and resilience. humble bottom-dwellers, vital components of freshwater ecosystems, unsung heroes (A blackout poem from Bullhead - Description, Hab...

  Contradiction Being human is a contradiction  Having high moral values You do not, cannot follow As you sit in traffic and watch  A small domestic animal Darts amongst squealing tires You’re glad it made it across the street But you don’t go back to look for it Capture it, take it home or to a shelter Instead you curse those responsible  Being human is a contradiction  Wanting to help the man on the street But turning your nose up to his stench Refusing to give him a dime for drugs Not trusting his moral compass Or thinking he no longer has one So one your high horse you offer Fast food and a list of resources Being human is a contradiction 

  Something to make you jump Bad chicken or bacon I don’t know which Something in my system just turn the switch Reject this now expel it all It doesn’t matter how big or small Run to the bathroom sit down first Then wrench into the sink then  and burn for thirst. 2:30  til 6:30 ought to clean you out But I as try to lay down I have one more bout

  A normal day, with a touch of surrealism As I pack for my trip to Round Top Poetry Fest, I remember last year. I can’t afford the motels in the area. so camped at Oak thicket Park.   It was lovely. So few campers this time of year, April, early in the camping season. For me it’s the perfect time. I don’t mind the rain if I have a roof. I rented a screened shelter. It’s nice because I kept my things inside  and lock the door when I leave but am still out in the open air. I hung my hammock sleeping amongst the trees. I befriended a cardinal.  He was fascinated that my hammock was such a bright orange. The cardinal decided it wanted to mate with my hammock. It would flutter  and dance, just outside, on the ground and do a fabulous mating dance for me.  Turning, fluttering its wings this way and that. Head down head up cooing  and chittering. I welcomed the rituals of this beautiful male showing off.  I took down the hammock, wrapped myself in it an...