Category Archives: poetry

Wait on Waiter

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He said, “Wait a minute!” I’m not waiting in that sitting room, I’ll be over there, sitting in the waiting room — I can take the weight off my feet!”

While sitting in the waiting room, the waiters were busy waiting to set the table; as so he didn’t have to wait (because that’s what waiters are supposed to do!).

Then, they could wait on him.

The weight on him was something else! The waiters had noticed that while they waited for him to choose where he wanted to sit!

Eventually, his table was ready, but only after waiting for everybody else to finish and leave where they were sitting; typical, because that’s only where he wanted to sit!

Eventually, after an excruciatingly long decision on what he wanted to eat, whatever he happened to choose was off the menu. Three unwanted, overcooked meals followed, and with every excruciating wait the waiters arrived decidedly — very much late.

Before the bill, everyone fell ill, and in the end, all that waiting killed them (quite literally) in just one sitting. Much, much later they were carried off the establishment; in bags… none the less, only for the ambulances that carried them away to breakdown — in impassable traffic… what rotten luck!

 

Slow Bugs of Late Summer

 

 

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Drowsy

Late summer bugs

Fly dive

Looping

Scuttle drunken

Lazily in ale

Under chilled verticals

Daggers of British rain

Flooding them magnetic

Unto themselves

Toddlers

The unloving

The programmed

Flutter precarious

With microscopic futures

Gumming abreast

Billions of batches

Altogether connected

Too impossibly dense

Worlds of forestation

Of extraordinary family trees

Slowed to pause

 

 

 

Timekeepers

 

 

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Behind  

The intensity of wake turbulence

The sucking energy of undertow

In the midst

Of trembling heat-haze

Sandwiched

Between ever-decreasing circles

Before

An echo followed

By a future muted echo

And delay is breeding its alarm

People bugs

Engulfed and entwined

Contained and compressed

In webs of self-inflicted time

Spun

By manmade life

Night (darker, longer)

Dark hoto of the sky at night

 

Deep in the night

You’re living your life lonely

Strung out before the dawn

Standing in the lounge

Silent

Motionless

Dumb

Rush blended

On palette

Many shades of night

Exhausted by being awake

And self-consciously

More awake than ever necessary

Overcome by the nocturnal

But sleep is somewhere

Someplace

Misplaced

Lone

Temporarily in common with

You

 

The Very Young

Boy running near a beach in sepia

 

 

The water rushes in

As an irresistable force

Towards distant twinkling lights

There

Miniature soldiers

Talk amongst each other

And their glow bugs

Sleep flying

Over and on crumbly cake ramparts

So overlooked

By a hovering fluoresent luna

Showering its moonbeams

While particular water

Lick sandcastles

Fragile upon themselves

With amateurish foundations

And so it’s true!

By children they are best made

They so do implore

The Little

Are softly strengthening

Tatty-bent-books

The boundless

Seeping

In old folklore