Monthly Archives: July 2009

balloons at a party

another cocktail party
quicksand in the gut
     i keep the ball in the air

there is more you will miss
     than you will ever do

time to consider my thoughts
twisted up used feathers
pork barrel droppings
a couple of shopping carts
     dumped in the creek

this is not a ghetto
     beautiful people feel safe
an important aspect of marketing

i want suburban comfort in an urban setting
the cookie jar
     that all future cookie jars
     will be judged by

i’m not doing anything today
     including social cues

klf 7-25-09

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drive-by

I am always
almost
there

never quite
there

almost always meeting
you but not quite
following
through

play acting
the end behavior
of a movie scene with
no character development

signpost handling
not putting in time
not really listening

halfway out the door
never in the thick of it

I don’t know your middle name or
where you were born

I forget the name of your ex-husband

some day my account will run dry
some day you will see my game
some day I’ll be recognized
for all my drive-by crime

lady k

The Lady, or the Tiger?

Door 1?
Big bats flying, black scorpion crawling.

Door 2?
Blood pollen on the silent keys.

Door 3?
Candy worship in the Temple of the Prom Queen.

The price of right.
Is One the end of Zero?

Steven B. Smith, 6.28.2009
*for an explanation of this poem, click on link “walking thin ice”

it’s getting better

some family’s life
bagged up & twisty
tied waiting
for mr. dump

news is hopeful —
goldman sachs showed
a profit in quarter two

furtive kitty pokes over
flowing garbage

other banks
dependent on consumer
loans are not
doing so well

another day
collecting cans

whitehaired woman
at the cash register

elderly man
pushing carts

while goldman sachs is expected
to report even more billions
in third quarter profits

wendy shaffer

chow

the alley cat runs
meat cutlet dangling from her mouth —
gotta love trash day!

wendy shaffer

duck squat

i am that silly female
duck squatting yellow
vitamin piss
all over yr 7 inch bic
flame boss anger
threatening piles
of unpinned grenades
piss piss pisssssss
(so hard to be
a white girl in amerika)
while real I.E.D.’s blow
Afghan dirt road legs
& guts into
the atmosphere

wendy shaffer

Air on a g string*

Today
The trees are truly
Alive they dance
& sway in their
Private ballet to
A silent music
They turn their
Leaves baring
Their soul & I
Was naked with
Them & younger
Than tomorrow’s
Dream

KE

*J. S. Bach

play

baxter crouched, batting
where headless, the fallen bird
provides no more fun

wendy shaffer

business

the tangled mess
of persons & personalities
wronged & ego muck slinging

sit back & smile
at a temper tantrum

a mass of arms & legs & guts
all strung stuck together
& spewing vomitory incriminations

the ego becomes a liability

sometimes through all the declamations
arbitrations exhumations exclamations
an old girl
just wants to write
a poem,
do some rhyming

but then the rent comes due

wendy shaffer