A Pound of Flesh

up on the roof
it's where I go
for a new view
of the ground
and many, many nails
to pound

a slight misalignment
of the hand
metal to metal becomes
metal to meat
and the wrong nail
gets pounded

oh, my fiddle
can wait awhile
and I strum
different chords
such swollen color
with a dish of ice

midnight meditations
throbbing thoughts
and tender touch -
missing medications
a pound of flesh
the nail gun next time

Sloglandia

The modus operandi
for daily life
is now a construction zone

Re-routing, detournaments;
stop-and-go
and mostly slow

Bumplification warnings
mergerology realignment
and cell waves flit unseen

Career shift
new levers, and
turns to learn

Little Warning

And oh, I thought it would
be so easy and of course
it wasn't

but there is comfort
in the right direction
and promise

while children quickly
watch and grow

for all the world
run hardly fair
to hear most tell

a case of space provisions
not much good here
except to have and hold

in good times and in bad
in sickness and health
or until boredom sets in

some lines jump out
with little warning
and require the same

Take care of what
you've got
hmm?