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Collected Poetry

    (rd king dot net)
poetry and digital art

The Big Picture  

Groups of short poems.

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1:   Top Down with Sunglasses

A woman wearing a bun
in an orange convertible
coupe, waits to make a turn
on a warm August morning—
while deftly chewing gum.


2:   Late Evening Scenario

Slumped at the computer screen
swigging a beer, fooling around
with the graphics software
there suddenly appears an image
where clearly, off-center, lies
      a glass of milk.


3:  After Gyozan

I reached my 58th year
without much pain or
hardship—the house paid off,
the kids out of college,
retirement nearing—how now
      brown cow?


4:  Eh Hee

What more was there to do
than watch a music video
again, and again, and again—
an odd man singing (women
dancing) about our fractious
      condition.


5:  Musings

Is it a collection of cells?
Is it sentient?  Does it elect
to measure time?  Will it
consider the frail essence
of the self?  Can it die?


6:  Smile

What more was there to do
on any given moment
at any given location
than to gaze into the camera
about to flash, and to appear
      bemused.


7:  and a Bottle of Brandy

A warm afternoon in early fall
—bringing home for my wife
a bouquet of yellow flowers,
I pass a blonde in a sports coupe
apparently singing her brains out.


8:  Gassing Up

What more was there to do
than stand beside the car
while the gas pump ran—
and to feel good about
the situation of this location.


9:  God's Grey Earth

I so much do love how
an old song will make
everything seem all right
on a stone-drunk Sunday
      morning,
driving home from somewhere.


10:  Suspiration

A fountain on a desert lake
suspiring into an opening cone—
unerring grace of hydrogeometry—
the hydrodynamic phenomena,
a mist, rising briefly and then...


11:  Currently

I've reached my 59th year
with little pain or hardship.
Days pass.  The president is
a smug, dumb-assed idiot.
The youth, it seems, have run off
      to join the carnival.


12:  Ostinato

I've reached my 59th year
with little pain or hardship.  I
still find myself in the bleachers
when the band starts to march
and I well up with emotion—tears of
      I still don't know what.





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