Ides of December


ho ho ho

i laugh to myself
finding a cough drop stuck to a candy corn
in my mixed up bowl of pacifiers
still figuring a way to leap frog
from oral
over anal
leap even not knowing to what
i hope it’s not normal fixation

i’d druthers be oral than anal
it keep away sorters and users
cause i’d druthers use myself up
than bugger my very best friends

six only days of Autumn
autumnal leaves they’re all fall downs
oh poets of Michael’s petition
please will too stay one week longer

“there is no death” he tells me daily

she’s hurting
her babies safe
yet in their tiny faces they present
“why is this happening?”

long is the way
sorrow is the path
of why we choose this path or that
blank is the slate
until we write it
until after we’ve walked
the way we talked

answers, my great grand babies
live in the future past
will to be revealed
in the future present

maybe December
does not have an ides exactly
never thewhateverdon’t mind
my greatest hope/wish/desire/want
is all to find
what they love and do it