Poem Overload, anyone?

Here's a new poem I call "Cucina." A work in progress.

cucina

The wool cap on the stool

Counting teardrops on the wall

Vultures encircle stained plaster

In for the re-kill, the rehash

Of moments when everything went

Wrong, and liquidized

Feelings met the confinements

Of mother’s kitchen.

Take me back to the linoleum anyway,

Take me back to the tomato sauce

And the toaster oven

And the wailings

Of

The tea kettle.

That I may wear the wool cap again

And help it

Count my teardrops on the

Wall

But wait, there's more! I recently also wrote a poem inspired by the art of total deconstruction. It was quite painful.

Groundhog Day

February air

Stings

Like

A cicada

Leaves

Red marks on

Sorry flesh

Buzz of winter

In full

Spring

I've also been writing haiku lately. I love them. It's better than people throwing brownies.

An ornament hangs.

Perfunctory; loose on a

Striking evergreen

Thick rims and a gleam

Hazel almonds briefly blind

An epiphany

Some color my world

In neon and azuline

As I prefer gray

Scoffing at the tree

We dubbed it too willowish

And it gave us fruit

Paper clips must be

Sick of all the warping. I

Dislike those “S”s

Three gentle words, hushed

With the scolding of wind: failed

Communication

When I saw the brush

Ablaze, I waited for God

Or the firemen

Laissez-faire Sundays

Warm Toyota afternoons

Tunes from the Songbook

In spite of the laughs

I dared to think up a place

Of compromised wax

The finger points to

Me and my comrades, we march

On unscathed; shrill cries

Photographs, scraps of

History, yesteryear’s news

And the fire blooms

Tigress carries the

Load of her children on her

Once-glorious back

N_q_t