Sunday, February 28, 2021

Fifty-eight:

58

Yesterday’s hero's 

today swept to the dust bin 

by waning interest.

Giants of theriomorphic nature 

require backbone and 

gumption to survive.

Loss by loss

time has the casual effect 

of  accidental anonymity.

Of  what merit fame? 

A fickle partner she 

comes and goes again 

leaving you for an old fishwife 

with wind.


Markle~

28February2021


Wednesday, February 24, 2021

Fifty-Seven:

57

Morning becomes morning 

becomes morning.

The days roll 

into each other. Waiting 

for spring.

Did I go to the box 

for the mail? It begins 

to blur. This 

Covid thing. This 

ancillary time. This.

Get up. Take the dog out.

Repeat. Take the dog out.

Repeat. Day and day and 

day. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.


25February2021

Markle~

Fifty-six:

56

At the risk of taking the Earth’s

magnetic North Pole for granted 

he endures her flip flopping back

and forth again on a massive scale 

impacting the atmosphere of their

relationship. The evidence, quite 

plain in the ice cores and soil

samples of their Sunday morning. 

During the ride to church he closes

his eyes to visualize their only

weekly momentary tactile intimacy

hidden with-in the corporate prayer.

He hankers it into longed for quiddity

and settles for that.


24February2021

Markle~

Sunday, February 21, 2021

Fifty-five:

55

Have you ever considered

how you want to be placed

in the casket when you go?

Perhaps you never slept

on your back before. Maybe

you prefer your left side?

Have you spent your entire

life sleeping on your stomach?

Do you toss to and fro?

Have you ever considered

how you want to be placed

in the casket when you go?

Wouldn’t you prefer to be

comfortable for the big sleep?


21February2021

Markle~

Thursday, February 18, 2021

Fifty-four:

54

I was going to use 

the word  “Plenary”

in a sentence today

but had to look it up 

to make sure I had 

the complete and

unconditional power

to use it correctly.

Having a broad capacity  

such as this to wield wisely 

can be a great and 

burdensome responsibility.

One which one

should not take lightly.


18February2021

Markle~

Fifty-three:

53

Your memory 

and it’s recovery of

some dead world 

that looks so new.

The prickly beards 

of tribal kings

and a peeled moon

dreaming profoundly.

Are you eligible for

the Covid vaccine?

You have a Zoom 

meeting in 90 minutes.

These might be the last

thoughts that you think.


Markle~

17February2021


Wednesday, February 17, 2021

Fifty-two:

52

Cities are sinking under 

their own weight.

This is why I live

in the mountains.

In the ice age the ground 

they rest upon rose up. 

Now, gradual downward 

settling of costal surfaces

inundation may give me

beachfront property.

Perhaps a bend

in the lithosphere 

will solve everything.

Perhaps not.


Markle~

16February2021


Tuesday, February 16, 2021

Fifty-one:

51

What does violescent mean? 

How does something 

tend towards violet? Seriously?

Did it just up and decide 

going that way was cool? 

Did it find yellow unattractive? 

Uncomplimentary?

But at the end of the day

the real question is: 

“Who was Violet Gray?

Why were her appearances 

eventually reduced to cameos?

And if roses are red 

why wasn’t she Blue?”


15Feburary2021

Markle~


Monday, February 15, 2021

Fifty:

50

We live at the base of 

my spiritual mountain

Ononta’kahrhon.

We can see it

from miles around.

From downtown 

in the city or 

out in the fields.

We have a sense of place.

Near or far

no matter.

Where ever we roam

we look up 

and see home. 


Markle~

15February2021 

Sunday, February 14, 2021

Forty-nine:

49

This just to say

I still want to hold

your hand as we 

walk into the years.

Kiss your lips

in the dark

when I climb 

into bed. See 

your eyes looking

back at me when 

I turn my head. 

Hold your heart

in mine like

the day we wed.


Markle~

14February2021

Friday, February 12, 2021

Forty-eight:

48

Three nights in a row.

Dreams like movies

based on book types.

First horror, then murder 

mystery. Now science 

fiction... Wonder what 

tonight will bring?

That was days ago now.

Many several. Sometimes

I do not feel the need

to write down 

my thoughts and 

I consider that that

is a good thing. 


Markle~

12February2021


Friday, February 5, 2021

Forty-seven:

47

There was a wet log on the fire 

when he fell plumb. Then somehow 

he rebounded as if  leavening his own 

transubstantiation by denying nonexistence.

“Well, this is precarious.” she said.

Also: “How can a being negated

             ponder what one aches for?”

      He was estranged so 

he became an apartment.

“That, was a beautiful sunset!

Now write a poem in one word

about a brick head exploding.”

he commanded:

*pop*


 04February2021

Markle~