Sunday Squibs

 

Life grows more complicated. I pushed the microwave one minute button so often it broke. Now I must punch in six plus zero plus go.

I've quit saying negative things about people. 

But is that an improvement when I still nudge others to say them?

Looking for a quiet Irish pub? Try arriving around 2:00 pm when the locals are just returning from the dead.

After the coupling each asks, jerk: yes or no

To decide their next move: to stay or to go

We swim in this sea of consciousness not knowing 

Which way to the bottom, which is up going 

The universe has been expanding for billions of years

It's fair now I think to ask if we're there yet 

I like old things. I try to keep them going rather than buy new. 

So old age suits me well.

My taste level lies in the narrow zone between the incredibly great and the sickeningly awful.

There is no poem that makes me sick 

Many though are not poetic

In olden days, artists needed patrons 

Nowadays an artist is wise to partner with someone good at numbers 

My past screw-ups are like tentacles dragging me down.

If only I could reach an ax or machete or razor.

Wait! My mind is the razor that will set me free.