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That’s what we call it when his cute puppy butt reaches skyward, front paws stretched out in front of his sweet little self. He lowers his tawny, curly rump, touches the floor and once again –- it’s part of his schtick –- Coco extends his adorable puppy-ness, his elasticity and motivation (treats factor into the equation), a wonder, a joy. We reward him with praise, with loving hands, with hugs merely tolerated. Our boy, our boy. All is good with our world.

 

 

 

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what’s needed

is some kind of capturing

or subduing device

an ingenious method

to destabilize

the Chinese puffball,

to paralyze

the download,

to scramble

the Beijing-to-Balloon

covert instructions,

to neutralize its

ill-gotten, 60,000 feet

meandering booty—

some good-guy mechanism

to crush their

under (over?) cover

clandestine operations

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I’d like to share two poems published in the last week or so that I hope you will enjoy. Do let me know what you think!

My poem abecedarian pomp & circumstance, circa 1987, was my first (and so far, only) attempt at this particular form of poetry. I wrote it after a workshop I attended via Zoom and, another first for me, this one appears in The Lake, a UK-based online poetry journal.

The second piece is a prose poem I wrote after a disastrous lunch with my son who lives near St. Louis. We don’t, on occasion, get along too well and this was a perfect example of just that. It’s called The Incident and was published today in Red Ogre Review, another online journal.