Long Potties Poems

There was a time years ago when the City showed its best.
With majestic hills and flowered streets, the Paris of the West.
Where business types and techno geeks discuss their politics.
While artsy fartsy folks and Hipsters...

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(alternately titled: ah me go march'n home on derange)

I'll play the devil's advocate, yet
prepare a stance with pitchfork
     against misinterpreted faux attempt
     to describe, how whet
d'ya column...

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As air and leaf litter are substrate for the bird.
And what makes a human. Separation from the substrate.
Believing the substrate and the subject are separately defined.

Whatever gives the poem form - three lines - is...

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To see the game, you have to plan
It takes some time you see
This is for all the die-hard fans
You'll need a strategy

To stand in line for baseball
Can be a timely task
You first must get the...

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Pointedly poignant points portend pointillism.
Pontiffs pontificate pointless pointers ponderously.
Pompous poems populate Pompei pottery potently.
Porous pornography portrays Portuguese porta potties.
Poppies pop Popeye’s popular popcorn.
Populist populism pots ponies properly.

Blithering blather blots bloody bleeping blips.
Bloomberg blogs bleach bleating...

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The orchard had a racket
With some autumn fruit to pick – 
A pumpkin or some apples
But it wouldn’t be too quick…

For the parking lot on Saturday
Was filled with family groups
And to get to where the...

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Trains upon trains
Exalted trains with pristine potties
and stewardesses with snack carts.
Luxury trains topped with glass so
the first class can see beyond 
the concrete shoot the cars shuttle through.

Trains upon trains
Avant -garde trains with scrolling neon...

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It's either too hot or too cold here,
the thermostat in hell must be broke again.
Maybe this is Purgatory
i'm told the Governor of purgatory
can't fix anything and he dithers a lot.

Someone has turned down
the dimmer switch...

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'THE WRITING ON THE WALL'       
      god hath numbered thy kingdom and brought it to an end... 


   porta-potties scattered around high...

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Cats and cars slipped under the long night,
only to drift backward
as if yesterday still pulled them in.

Old Charley Winslow died
just before the deluge
but when the river threw itself
over the dike
he was seen to float out...

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Stray cats slipped under a waterlogged night
only to drift back bedraggled,
as if today still pulled at their tails

Old Charley Winslow died
before the deluge,
before the river threw itself
over the dike.
Laid out for burial
he was seen to...

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A tugboat was pushing a barge.
I wondered just who was in charge
For the cargo on board,
Which I wish I’d ignored,
Raised some issues which somehow loomed large.

Porta-potties were lined up in rows.
Full or empty? Too far...

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