forty exercises in and
young som is starting
to get on my nerves
with his dedication to
daily chores, weekend studying
and moral guidance of fellow students
i’d much rather read about sokha
the fishing enthusiast who knows
how to enjoy his days off
and is not too proud to admit
in and out of school
that he still has much to learn
do not be
apologetic
for not being
convenient
i have lived in
metropolitan areas
all my life
always looking up
struggling to see
distantly burning stars
hoping to catch more
than the bright line
of orion’s belt or
the corners
of the two dippers
for the only constellations
i can consistently identify
on clear nights
but maybe it is time
to stop searching
the night skies
and start looking
in our sprawling cities
for far less
hazy glimpses
of cosmic light
after all
we are
each of us
made of stardust
i ate the pips
of my apple today
picked them out
one at a time
chewed them up
swallowed them down
remembered they
were poisonous
did some research
and was satisfied
that five seeds
would not kill me
seems fitting that death
would start out
feeling a tad dry
tasting a little bitter
and smelling
of almonds
your poems are
something i
stumbled into
intended target
or not
i have been caught
but should i
be loosed
i will carry away
these lines woven
from pieces of you
the nights are too bright without you by my side
even now with no moon to play midnight sun
the city glow continues to illuminate the sky
and though curtains are drawn to darken this room
the fluorescent green of my clock shines on
steadily counting out the minutes and hours
that you remain gone
these late afternoons
in the hammock
between the trees
are supposed to
lend themselves
to flashes of
poetic inspiration
what with me relaxed
in the warmth of a
dappled patch of sun
penetrating the cocoon
of branches and leaves
and the steady rocking
of a slow wind
instead i end up with
minor lower back pain
wind-cooled extremities
and a dribble of drool
dried to my cheek
at first i wanted to say
how much i wished
you were here
but the sudden stench
of skunk spray
from somewhere upwind
wafting in through both
my bedroom windows
has changed my mind
not for fame
or followers
or likes
but for my self
and you
always for you
he says that on a hot day
you can hear them grow
the thorny-edged
hard-tipped leaves
cracking apart into
ever-widening rosettes
of barbed succulence
taking decades rather
than the hundred years
its common name implies to
store enough energy to
send single stalks
shooting up to flower
before wilting away
loosing the binds 