Short Strafe Poems

Bog berries and frog eyes,
on an afternoon surprise.
At the Witch's Lot.
Where aches fester and rot.
Where witches spin and turn on their cot,
and close their thick thighs,
around flying sticks that rise,
and fly while hot.
Witches strafe above,
riding toward the sky,
in
loud
ecstasy....

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Headlights strafe the woods:
deer eyes glint.
I am deep into a conversation with myself
unspoken words drop like rocks
into pools of forgetfulness.
Those eyes in the darkness
want to show me a way out of myself,
both sides the woods are closing in
and I have to go faster
or wake up
inside the mind of a deer
looking for my ghost....

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Hailstones on the mat
A feral Tom cat lingers
Doors that never shut

As hailstones strafe junk mail and mat
Where feral is the alley cat
On one hinge hangs
The door that bangs
And he ain’t going out in that

The feral cat whilst oftentimes homeless, is, it seems, at no time gormless




26 January 2022
Contest: Charlie Hai-Lim-Ku poetry contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina...

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Silence lingers above my head
The man that's lost at sea; afloat
And underneath are fish not fed
All staring at my makeshift boat

I never knew exactly how
A piece of wood could feel so safe
For not even the toughest bow
Has saved me from this constant strafe

I guess I must be grateful, then
For still to live is such a gift
Yet Sea has claimed the roughest men
And I'm a weak one set adrift...

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