The Lady at Her Toilet
The Lady at her toilet
Is talking to a fly
Her edenic soil refuses
To labor out into post-
Modernism’s fountain
Of life which is mostly
Urine–the color
Of sunrise
After death more toil more life
Each and every monostitch en-
Tails a running joke, a missing line
II
2021 November 9th
Off the calendar
She scratches first
With nickel then with dime
The heads of Einsenhovver
Of Lincoln gleam
Then glimmer
Like a jar
Of moonshine
The waxy smile of Mickey Mouse
III
The silent craft of Old Timer
Still is being fulfilled
1928
November 9th
In township
of Sir Isaac Newton
A golden delicious apple
Falls from tree
And, after hitting its head,
Marches up seven hills
Then another one
Training for Marathon
IV
1928
November 9th
In township
Of Sir Isaac Newton
Ann Sexton bawls
At umbilical’s snip
Trumpeting and trumpeting
The stock market’s crash
To Ground Zero
The hour-
Glass cracks
The sand
Of Satan spills
And yet fails
To buffer the time-
Travelers’ swan dive
Who’ve felt the cosmic tap-tap
Of rapture–back after Death
Serving Life