Short Gewgaw Poems

a witches familiar
   this fiery rabbit hops to a spell
   with a gewgaw in his paw

a witches doer
   this forayed hopper dances well
   with a song or two or more

a witches seer
   this furry bunny on the bell
   with a bouncing at the door

a witches worker
   this funny imp in a grassy dell
   with naughtiness in store




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The Emperor
hath donned a gewgaw crown,
bedazzled are the throng.

He rides an electric horse.
Strides through the pitiless cities
of lost or last hopes.
His faceless glance
not even a mask,
but a cold premonition
an iron mind
behind bolt-shut eyes.

The crowds back away,
bow and know
they are now subjects,
not even slaves,

only subjects
to be used and disposed of
at the ballot box....

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I sit upon a moment’s tree
  with a gewgaw in my hand
and pluck its reed rhythmically
  to ride the distant land

the journ to drift her league to me
  upon my tongue, her tongue
caressing sound relentlessly
  harmonious lips in song

and while my harp does steer me so
  to galaxies afar
many a darkness had me go
  traverse the lonesome star

yet all the time a moment’s tree
  side on with roots asway
an afternoon belonged to me
  that gewgaw had my day



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