Monday, June 30, 2008

Goodbye, June!

Goodbye, June, may the new month prosper, but not bury you! You were pretty chickenshit, actually, but maybe some rich princess will yet turn up before midnight. Anything's possible, but not much is likely. No, not likely. When I go to bed, it'll be tomorrow—if I could cut your throat, June, I probably would.

Damn June Bugs

If I could just be a duck
On some lucky lady's lake in South Dakota,
I'd hush except for quacking
And a little flapping and flashing
And maybe she'd feed me or I'd find what was needed
And my grand conceit, such impetuous impersonation
Of a different form of fool, might improve my stance
While all the other birds would fly about like tipsy lords,
Never doubting, always toiling from the water
To the air in vast balletic dance.
They’d leave the surface of the water boiling
With bubbles and tension and all the things not eaten,
And the clouds might roll, passing me by with only
The slightest tinge of darkness showing,
And I'd be safe,
Away from here.
I'd even eat the damn June bugs!


2 comments:

  1. If you were a duck on a lake in South Dakota, some lady's red canoe would write a poem about you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. That's possible, but I'd just be one among many.

    ReplyDelete

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)