Penguin Poems

Some mornings, this bed is a fresh-plowed field

Outside the administration building
Of the local high school is a signpost
Bearing two identical “One Way” signs.
One sign points due left, the other points right.

The first time I saw this it made me laugh
Because it so well expressed that vortex
Of high school life, where we stand and wonder
Which of the right answers we should follow.

But today, surrounded by caps and gowns,
This weathered sage turns valedictory:
You have the best of us now – choose wisely.
Once you leave here, there is no coming back.

They are flushing the hydrants today
Splashing giant rainbows in the spring air.
You cannot escape the sound of water.
Outside the Middle School is a great lake
Where the drains are plugged. Two young boys are there
Staring intently like they are asking

What will be left when the waters recede?

On the radio they are talking to
Farmers in the Mississippi delta,
Poor folk in poor houses, watching the floods
Rising and talking about faith in God
And how they don’t have the money to move,
While engineers are playing Morton’s Fork
Between the devil and the deep blue sea
And admitting that no one really knows

What will be left when the waters recede.

The boys lose interest and wander away
To dig in the sand of the ball diamond.
I change stations and hear an old preacher
Talking about God shutting Noah in
The Ark. And I think, Good for Noah, but
What about the rest of us? Does he want

What will be left when the waters recede?

Are round: The perfect circle
Of a fresh cupcake; a sunny-side
Egg yolk; apples and oranges are
Round, too. Even pears and bananas
If you look at them end-on. And of
Course, the humble hamburger,
Served on a plump, round bun.

No food in nature is square, or triangular;
Sometimes food has legs, but even
These legs are vaguely roundish.
And some of the finest foods even organize
To grow in circles (like mushrooms).
It just stands to reason, really –
Round earth, round food. I think
That’s why pop tarts just seem wrong.

(a cascade poem)

So many things we say we’ll never do
Follow us home in the end
Like a stray dog that steals our heart.

That’s why I’m cautious about words
Spoken in haste or anger, for there are
So many things we say we’ll never do

That we should – like apologize
Or embrace the embarrassments that
Follow us home in the end

And lie down with their head in our lap
Nuzzling against our hand
Like a stray dog that steals our heart.

Let’s be dangerous
Outside tonight
The moon is a police light
Throwing shadows
Through the tall grass
Above us

Let’s be dangerous
In plain sight
The neighbors are sleeping
Dreaming of small deeds
And the moon
Is our radio.

Let’s be dangerous
And start a fight
Just so we can make up
Strong and slow
With your lunatic hand
Over my mouth.

Let’s be dangerous
And break what’s right
Because we are strangers
Whetted with unknowing
And we are desperate
To cross this divide.

(Happy Easter to all)

You lipsticked cigarette ends
Circling smoke to heaven
Rampant weeds defying mulch
And axel-breaking potholes
Praise the Lord.

You blissed-out muzak
Kenny G-ing overhead
Slick-haired TV talking heads
And day-old business pages
Praise the Lord.

You pouting teenage girls
In long skirts and too much makeup
Freckled younger brothers
And disapproving grandmas
Praise the Lord.

You harried first-generation immigrants
Screwing up my order
Overflowing coffee pots
And abandoned egg mcmuffin
Praise the Lord.

You white clothed street crew
Worn out from your heavy lifting
You military veterans
Stealing glances at the
Women in the corner

By the empty table.

There are many dangerous buttons
In this world. Some you wear to make
A point, whether humorous or profane
(I got into a fight once over a message
Pinned to the front of my jacket, for example).
Some buttons live on machines,
And are marked with big red letters
Saying things like “Detonate,” or “Launch.”
These buttons do significantly more damage
And are very, very noisy.
But the scariest and most dangerous button
You will ever find – both for you and
Everyone else – is quite modest, and bears
The simple legend: “Reply All.”

Unexpected roses always make my soul
Melt with love for you, my dear;
Not because I find your Casanova’s role
Unexpected – roses ALWAYS make my soul
This way for you. It’s just I know your goal
Is purely biological. Never fear –
Unexpected roses always make my soul
Melt with love for you, my dear.