Cheerful Death Poem

I’ve always been fascinated by how we’re generally so bad at dealing with something we all do. I was in a contemporary literature class and some facet of death came up during the lecture, I don’t recall what exactly. I thought of this poem and started typing it during a break in the lecture action. So if someday somebody wants to put me in a cement-lined designer velvet casket – you know what to do.

Advertisements

Little Humor Poem

Here we are living in National Poetry month, so here is a quick little poem about humor that fits into a screenshot.

A poem about adults

Adults always seem to forget what it’s like to be young.

Visitor to the Midwest: A Heard Poem

Here is this little overheard gem. Every once in awhile strangers still have conversations in bars without phones between their faces. When they do, you can overhear a gem or two. This was a visitor from L.A. making a stop in Milwaukee from California. Click the arrows to the right to read the next line. Viva Midwest. Flyover and Friendly.

Short Shots Poetry Reading Thursday, February 15

See you at Var Gallery this Thursday, February 15 at 8:00pm for Short Shots! This show features 7 poets including myself – and it’s free.

Elegy for an Uncle Grandfather

The first time we met

my mother’s father,

we were standing in our driveway

greeting them as they arrived

to our 4th of July party.

 

He’d come to visit

from Florida, along with

his second wife.

 

The adults spoke

about travel and directions,

a mediocre steak dinner in Tennessee,

other smalltalk you stumble at

when your father hasn’t visited

in years,

and after a lull

my little brother

proudly announced his first hello,

 

“Hi, Uncle Russell.”

 

“Well I’m not your uncle, Kenny -”

he corrected the child

with a wounded scorn,

“I’m your Gran-Paw!”

 

I was 9 years old,

and I wondered what kind of

ridiculous person

would move away

then show up and

scold strangers

for not knowing

who he is.

 

He died last night

after breaking his

hip and pelvis

in Florida

a few days ago.

 

Today somebody told me

with generic discomfort,

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

 

For something we all do,

we’re really bad

at death.

 

I didn’t really know what to say and

laughed a little.

 

Made me think of

apologizing to an archeologist

standing over the bones

of an extinct bird

no human has

ever seen.
– what loss?