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Kid Poetry

Are You an Ologist?

What Not to Do on a Rainy Day. 

The Kids in My Class. Hopscotch Magazine For Girls 

Lou's Lousy Day.
Hopscotch Magazine For Girls


Sneeze in Threes


When pollen fills the air from trees

in spring and fall, I sneeze in threes


Swirling dust up past my knees

in attic eaves, I sneeze in threes


The sun is in my eyes! I squeeze

them shut, and then I sneeze in threes


If bugs jumped in my nose--like fleas--

believe me, I would sneeze in threes


Plague or nameless new disease

I guarantee I’d sneeze in threes




Pepper flakes in food, Chinese

they’re yummy but they make me sneeze

and wheeze and sneeze

and sneeze and sneeze

and sneeze and sneeze and



Big People Poetry

A Big Bad Modern Day Fairy Tale Rhyme


Willie Winkie sits in jail with lots of time to think

He tried to warn us all our stake in privacy would shrink

Someone’s making threats unveiled

Status quo or you’ll get nailed

You’d be best with itch curtailed

Be careful where you wink


Scrub your food or you’ll regret the day that you were born

Food with dyes and drugs will try to exit you with scorn

Radiate that mozzarella

Teaming cells with long flagella

Check your source for salmon, Ella

No one wants to mourn


Sleeping Beauty, seven dwarves, the first cops did the math

Figured out those guys were tripping down the primrose path

She was sleeping, that’s not good

Plundering her neighborhood

They are not misunderstood

Their type deserves our wrath


Jack and Jill were going, not uphill but to his camper

Lacking good protection for their tumble? Not a damper

STDs now STIs

She believed a thousand lies

What’s that red rash on her thighs?

Look at Jackie scamper


Think I’ll stay in bed today, the world’s a nasty place

Are we just too dull to handle simple acts of grace?

All behave like thugs, appalling

Lying, looting, bombing, brawling

Chicken Little’s sky is falling

Picking up its pace


-- Published April of 2009 on the now-defunct British website Nasty Safari





Slim pointy tails slip through

my teeth

Slimy slick skin separates from

sweet flesh

Aged rotted curds ooze green

and blue.


Spinach salad





My Brain


Wasn't with me today


It hid behind my study door,

sunned itself beside a geranium,

sat on the curb with recycling bins


It shuffled pages of books and

refused to plan dinner


Now it’s hiding under my desk


I think I'll have a talk with it




       (September 9, 2020)

Fugue, Parts I and II


Part I


The study of the origin of words is


It takes a word by its hand and

walks it back to its birth.


Don’t confuse it with


the study of insects, or

those words

and their ancestors

and their progeny will

fly away to feed on local flowers.


Part II


I don’t know the etymology of the word


but there must have been serious family

infighting and anger and then

final separation for its two definitions to now live

completely different lives.


A fugue is a piece of music

shared by that composition’s family,

intertwined, embraced, encouraged by all.


A fugue is the absence of


Not a sharing in a family,

not even a sharing in one’s own being

A loss of memory so deep that even

a Shostakovich fugue

cannot soothe it back to life.


       (September 20, 2020)

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