A hundred and one things
compile today;
my back yields to the weight
of all of them.
Yet, my cat must be hugged.
My fingers deep,
press her close
till my breath slows
to her softening purrs.
Yet, my poem must be written
before I sleep.
Digging deep
I try to leave my mark
as blood is seeping
from her scratch on my thigh.
The energetic sunrise
opens the eyes of the livestock
and their quiet baying
is collectively translated
as the call to morning chores.
And wanting the hay mow filled
as much as the animals,
the farmer urgently begins
racing the competitive sun
to the end of the furrows.
Grasshoppers are gymnasts
jumping curling ribbons of dust
while every pass of the harvester
is leaving prickly stubble
to boast the day’s work.
Later veiled by a five o’clock shadow
the exhausted sunset
closes the eyes of the farmer
and his confused dreams
question the femininity of Mother Nature.
your hands
press the towel
radiating heat
from the dryer
against your face
the warmth drenching
your spongy cheeks
tipping your head back
dripping sighs
of saturating comfort
allowing you
to absorb it all
It is just a hoax,
a stupid prank,
a practical joke
played on foolish
teenagers
intended to amuse
the adults as they sit
in the smoky obscurity
of the teacher’s lounge
laughing at the
absurd notion
that any of the students
will ever
figure it out.
The instructors gloat
in their ingenious use of words,
a mischievous trick,
a silly stunt,
told in an ostentatious manner
during fifth hour
intended to deceive
with irrational
incongruous numbers.
But, no.
You will never
ever find a logical
true life application
for an algebra equation.
It is all a cruel joke
done with smoke
and mirrors.
Sorry to blow your cover,
Mr. Nelson.
Because kids don’t often like
to take a summative geography quiz
on a Monday morning,
my momma knew
if I was willing to allow her
to home doctor
my queasy stomach
with an aspirin suppository
slathered with petroleum jelly
and inserted anally
allowing it to slowly melt
from my raging body heat
leaving a large embarrassing
wet spot upon the sheets,
I was REALLY sick.
The darkness crept down softly
while the cutting shadow
of nightfall
slipped on the floor.
I should have laughed
but with my eyes half open
I didn’t see the illusion
of smoke or mirrors
and I was unable to grasp
the magician’s trick
of the disappearance
of the day.
My eyelids crept down softly
with a skeptical view
of chaos
as I felt all but torn in half.
Everyone had pulled me
in different directions
but I was mysteriously rejoined
by my conjured solutions
to the problems of today
if no one had noticed
my split personality
in the fray.
My body crept down softly
and ached for the magic
of slumber
as I pulled my thoughts together.
I should not have fooled myself
by today’s contorted delusions
but still my pillow beckoned
as I slipped into bed
and finally caught
some healing rest
while today’s troubles
faded away.
Einstein and I
must have been
brother and sister
in some past life.
But in his grave
he should not
be jealous of
what I know
but no one else
in my house
can figure out.
Some things I know
are beyond the scope
of the average man’s
son’s or daughter’s
intelligence.
I can’t hold that
against them
as they can only
do so much
with what they have.
It is the curse
that they must live with.
I can sympathize.
It must be difficult
to attempt so complex
a task.
So I will try my best
not to get a big head
as I put on a new roll
of toilet paper.
It’s a gift.