New Love

A kiss meant nothing when you kissed me,
Now it means but all,
Since my dearest, my sequined love
Did fall

Beguiled in the winds of ruby whims.
Your kiss was nascent,
Hers the very touch
Of butter bar rubbed on cherry flush.

She is no more. You are what is left,
When a late frost reclaims
A cherry blossom. The theft
Lets my heart to ripple by the threshed
Bud in the pond below.

I lay my lips upon your lips
In a broken bungalow,
And out the window scorns eclipse
Of sun by vaguest snow.

Will I love you like I loved her once?
New love, I do not know

How Now?

First a man,
Then a writer,
A poet, a singer,
A heart exciter.

Upon completing
This procession
(it may be eternal)
I hope to learn
A valid lesson.

Where do I stand
At the end of the day?
(though the day has no end)
In a forest
The sidewalk is leagues away.

The gaze is ahead,
Not up nor down,
For the future will be,
The past once was,
But the present's now.

That is how,
The here and now.

In Response to a Benign Petition

(I don't need you
Adn my time is ym money,
Refrain from stupidity
In the presence of my fecundity.
This is my business, my town,
And damned if you or anyone
Is gonig to bring me down.
Phft!)

I answered your questions in a previous e-mail.

-WigHead

Weeping Tree Song

Weeping Tree, Weeping Tree why do you cry?
Your tumbling branches fall out of the sky,
Down to the Earth where it's trodden and brown,
Where your trunk stately stands on the dewy wet ground.

Weeping Tree, Weeping Tree why do you frown?
The sunlight is shining and friends are around,
The Oak and The Elm and The Red Hickory.
Weeping Tree, Weeping Tree look up you'll see!

Dirt Begat Mud or How to Love

I reckon there are seldom shores
Where desert meets the sea,
Perhaps because wherever 'tis
A sandy kiss it be.

Perhaps because a roaring wave
Would rather slam a cliff,
Than roll atop a level plain,
Mulling and adrift.

I say this while ten miles from here
One finds the oceanfront
Abutted by a beach of rocks
Reduced to silt and dust.

O fie but why would water blue
Incur the yellow sand?
Maybe for the saltless ocean
Thinks itself too bland.

There is no lesson to this poem
Other than to say:
Mud is the child of Dirt and Water
And Mud is here to stay.

Rose Return

I love you like
The rose is the most beautiful flower,
Fragrancèd blossom illuminating.

My nose keeps you on my couch after you leave,
So I doze among a splendid perfume,
And no flower I've tasted diffused as such
A scent that could engender love so much.

The Style

My parents don't appreciate The Style:
Be whatever, rip a bong, then smile.
I smoke a cig in my backyard,
I don't know what they do,
Or who to talk to.

My mother used to be the remedy
For her burdened child.
She's like a cop now,
I can't be honest without
a) fearing for my continued residence
b) fearing she's right
When she says I might not make it through the night.

I don't like that we fight.
I don't know how to stop it,
Unless I do as they say,
Drop It.

That's not it though,
(I don't want to sue
Again in psychiatric session)
But dammit here's a lesson
At least one of us has got to learn:

(When I figure it out,
This poem, my conscience waiting,
I'll return.)