Sunday, September 2, 2012

Four Stanza Haiku

Dear mister
I am not your girl, your sister,
so leave off;

go and buy
another special someone
the price of bed.

Throw me twenty
just don't expect to see
any panty.

I'm not tall
or skinny, I'm none too blonde,
but I'm here--
serving beer.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

The Hunt

Yes ma’am I’m hard
cut from stone, hard
worker and smart too.
You want me
to lick table clean?
Sure sure, can do.

Yes I go to college
and leave
with Honors, ivy leaf.
wrote many papers,
kissed limestone
statues of tall tall men.
Not as pretty as you!

but I will work for you,
sure, sure, for not much.
I know how to clean
the deep fry
and write you poems
for appetizer, try one.

Hello? Hi it’s me
again, I called last week
remember me
yes, I know you,
the sushi house.
Oh I eat sushi so much,
can roll a mean one,
and drink 10 sake box.
Monday, eight-fifteen?

At Whom It Should Concern
in Human Resources:
I would make great
typist and phone-talker.
I phone talk all the time!

Wait, don’t go!
not ladyfriend talk,
but a phone professional
I am. Ps and Qs are best
quality that I keep
in my pockets, 
for you the boss to use
his or her own
tidy hankerchief. Here it is!

That is how loyal I would be
for you
at your great big company
that does that one marketing thing
I’m so curious about.
Tell me, please, more about you,
what it is exactly that you do.

Hi, I call you back?
I spilled rice and beans
in my lap.

Ooh, lookee here,
I found your number on the job board
at 7th and West.
Walk the dog
clean the toilet
soft wipe of ass?
yes, please, ma’am,
this I want more of.
I will be the best worker
you find, hands down. 

Sure, let me know
I would love to hear from you
and here is my number, it's:

Monday, April 30, 2012

Loose Villanelle.

Watching you watch me, I make tea.
I fade out of sight, your anchor
behind the door. You couldn’t see,

but heard the screams of water
molecules turned angry vapor
screaming at me making tea.

Sometimes we drag on the floor.
Other days go on with toil and labor
behind a door we cannot see.

Here pages turn. Clocks stop. Hearts slow.
And sometimes we are boring:
sitting in chairs, screaming, and making tea.

Grueling on we grind away
at each page, the same one read yesterday,
the day before, and the one we didn’t see.

Please don’t go when you expire,
your life the flowers I closed
between a book to dry, off-white and fair.
I want to watch you watching me
from behind the door.
I want to have you to see.