Piscarius Poetry

_{Autumn – leaves on wind
I just stepped in dog poop
Alas! My new shoe}

))){

Intermittent river with
stony shore, shingly shore.

Important building in
built-up area by abandoned
railroad.

Examples of conspicuous
landmarks as pictorial
symbols.

Watermill; well; pavillion;
silo or elevator.

Promenade pier. Quay and
minor posts and piles.

Mean lower low water
and highest astronomical
tide.

Degaussing range and
submarine exercise area.

_{The poetry of NOAA Chart No.1}

))){

The finest things
of all unreservedly.

I (can) hold in my palm.

My thoughts of you
are ever expansive.

But I can compress
all them into my
closing fist.

Which I (can) press
against my chest.

My heart beats quick &
lilting: Moqueca de amor.

(then) I open
closed hand and, Ha!
L’amour a des ailes

(but, assuredly)

Smack into your
(oh-so) kissable

..lips, sweet thing.

Olive you

_{for loquacious}

))){

I scratched a match
in the dark

Lit a small votive
and scented candle
Cinnamon and spice

Curled in my bag

Contemplated the
very small flame

Blinked my brown
eyes

Oncely and twicely

Content was I

And a big fucking
moth flew into
the very small
candle and died
a small but
flapping death

And my small candle
evening was plunged
into a moth-death-induced
darkness, so

I went to sleep

Because the smallest
happy flame might
be put out at any
moment without a
single breath

))){

In B flat

Because you knocked
me down.

You played my heart
strings pizzicato:

Whenever I kiss you
or you I we leave
strings like invisible
spider silk.

Which are really
stretchy; you over
in the land of mini
skirts and football
fight songs.

Me in the land of
fog and rough roads
and cool looking
echinoderms in cold
waters.

Every time I miss
you I feel like I’ve
been tripping over
these strings.

Which lead to
you eventually.

_{for LL}

))){

Rainy day. I am tired
and have been entertaining
relatives.

My coffee – which is
good – steams in my
hand as I look out
the window beaded
with rain, rain, rain.

In my head we’re in
the desert and in your
dark hair and pale,
clear skin you could
be a faerie-maiden.

Dancing on the cool
sands under the moon.

I’d run after you and
chase you and catch you
and kiss you.

The stars would applaud.
Big audience.

))){

Hello your dark hair
streaming night around
me.

Sometimes I feel I’m
underwater and you
surround me.

All pale skin and
feverish kisses like
the ebb and flood of
an osculating current.

You’re all around me
and I close my eyes
and I’m anywhere and
nowhere.

And you are ever there.

_{for LL}

))){

didn’t want to play
so we strode forth
and labored under the
overcast whilst the
sun enjoyed a vacation
in Bonaire

...or somewhere

))){

When I was young
which was yesterday

In a way

I used to play with
firecrackers

I was bold

Holding them

..holding until
the fuse grew

Short and shorter
still

..and shorter, yet
until there was
no fuse left

And I cursed and
waved stung fingers

))){

Once upon a time
there was a princess
in a tower.

She had long dark
hair like a river
of night sky.

A love-lorn poet/
astronaut happened
by and fell in love.

He designed a ladder
which sadly, didn’t
reach her; it was made
of rose petals.

He next fabricated
a catapult and flung
himself at her; missed
and landed in a yard
full of angry ducks.

The princess watched
all this with glee
which turned into joy
which settled into love
like wood into coals.

“Why don’t you come
up,” she said and
let down her dark hair
which he climbed burning
his hand only twice on
little stars hiding in it.

))){