What about all those

Things that fall through

The cracks the undefined

The mislabeled misleading kinds

Those that lack conventions

The square pegs that

Will never fit into

Round holes where do

They all go when

Pedestals are reserved for

Heroes and not oddballs

I will tell you

One inch or five

Feet or miles upon

Miles upon miles off

Of your pointing finger

That’s where we go


At last the crickets

I wish they’d slow

Wound much too tightly

Like a teenagers first

Sexual experience too fast

What’s needed is intimacy

The slowed heartbeat of

A sleeping lover the

Rolling surf of his

Shallow breathing absent of

The days deep sighs

But instead I hear

The chirp chirp chirp

Of now now now

Not sleep sleepy sleeping