Thank you to Mark Antony Rossi of Ariel Chart for publishing my three poems in the February issue.

The Treasure Chest That Is Key West

 

Duval Street,

along which Papa dragged his

six-toed cats’ water-bowl one drunken night,

to a house with a library and typewriter, 

pecking out memories of mountains, war, and Africa.

 

An open sky with lots of sun,

soft afternoon rains to ease the heat,

and under both a treasure trove 

of things to see, eat, and do.

 

Glass bottomed boats, 

hovering above coral reefs located miles off shore,

leaving room for Captains’ wheels,

parasail harnesses, snorkles and scubas,

all sharing clear waters with giant sea turtles,

beyond sandy beaches, and southernmost tips. 

It’s not crowded here because the sea is so vast.

 

The best Key Lime pie (buy it at the kiosk in the Post Office, believe it or not!)

The My Blue Heaven lunchtime menu,

and other eateries serving yellowfin tuna, or cuban sandwiches.

Don’t forget Pepe’s with a full course Thanksgiving dinner every Thursday.

 

Trolleys, bicycles, motorbikes for travel,

or the joy of walking on just your own two feet

Viewing along the way skeletons dressed in leather in motorcycle shops,

sponges and statues on display,

and numerous densely populated bars full of nautical and seaworthy folk.

 

A daily sundown carnival with cat acrobats, magic,

massages, and stunning sunsets painted into a darkening sky.

 

Evening ghost walks, passing raised crypts in the cemetery,

a strange doll with supposedly malevolent powers,

sure to keep you awake while you ponder leaving the lights on.

 

A place to treasure, a valuable place,

dig deep and uncover all her jewels,

and when you leave her,

let all your memories be your bounty. 

Weights and Measures

 

A larger work,

having greater parts

soon disavowed,

all accounts

condensed

within the text.

The writers’ rules

able to resist

rambling,

penning

derivations,

of near virtual private thoughts,

abridged,

using symbols,

linear,

trying to beg meaning from brevity,

deliberating over copy,

compact language,

phrasing,

power increased,

in vain hopes

only the most succinct is recorded.

We All Love The Dead

 

We all love the dead.

Thats why we go to funerals,

keep them in urns,

attend seances,

send prayers,

write tributes,

talk about them endlessly.

 

To wonderful friends 

who lend a sympathetic, patient ear

in the days following

a loss:

Thank you 

for helping those left behind

compose the poetry of the world.