perturbation theory or monkey in the middle

the monkey dances
through your yard
into neighboring yards
and out beyond
into a blip jiggle
jangling
along uneven paths
cobble stones potholes
fell trees and bones

RIP Sucker a poem for the wretched

Mark?
Oh, he’s dead now,
Not much worth knowing
If you ask me
And I know all what that
Entails, suggests, reveals,
Means dead
Not much worth knowing
Or having
Ever having
Ever having had

Extinction

I dunno
Maybe I’ve forgotten
How to write poems
Just as I’ve forgotten
How to breathe
And how to dance
How to talk
Maybe these are
Repertoire skills
A trinity of blessings
If you’ll forgive the math

I need help I shout into the wilderness

Also, I’m a poet, I sez
Because it’s true
And because it’s the most creditability
I can muster these days
Poet, that’s the only thing you really need to know
About me, it’s true, and gives you a stalking path
If you wants to track me down
Look for the poet
Boo, here I am here I goes