Back to Life

the Cat in the Hat

stands on his tail on my head

spinning his collection de chapeau

haute couture hats of many colors

juggles his among mine

and bouncy bouncy Tigger

fun fun fun

balances a plate

magically precarious

on a bent fork tine.

he cools my face

flapping fans from

dear old aunt Mace

who knew how to blow

hot and bold

or in from the cold

and out with the old.

the smoke he clears

spews forth from my ears

in lieu of frustrated tears

or as telltale exhaust

from over-cranked gears.

I have run full circle

full tilt, frenzied

down hill and up dale

past heaven and hell

beyond the pale

slurped from the mop bucket

of the devil’s woman char

constructed a chair lift

of regrets and resignation

on abyss’ frozen-flamed edge

pullied myself

through grim, in determination.

now I spin the hamster wheel

off the rails

of the status quo

crash the party

of who’s who and what’s what

and kick up my heels

dancing to a drum

off the beaten path.

I hear the voices in my head


to my resurrection

I give them credence

and a ruby slippered



Unwritten Best Sellers

Daylily’s Suitcase

Armadillo Gutpunch

Serpentine Anecdotes

Mad Hatter and the Tortoise

Sarcasm Resurrected

Of Exhaust and Peonies

Bread, Milk and Chicklets

Gnawing Midnight

The Groupie (and other Positions)

Go Postal, Cyclops

Anhydrous Apocalypse

Quasimodo’s Massage

Headbutt the Hydra

Eggplant Pinnacles

Carp all Diem Long

 All Toll for the Bikinis

Sari, Not Sari

Losin’ It

it slipped

(my grip)

tenuous and tenacious

on reality

or a reasonable facsimile



now I am flailing wildly

arms once akimbo

flap mumbo -jumbo

while falling

far from grace

and tumble amongst

the wild hares.


you tripped

(a quip)

along the road

less traveled

though well or yellow


now you quibble

\over nibbles\

while feeding spot

some kibble

and chase him

helter-skelter beyond

bunny wonderland.


she flipped

(no scrip)

for a knave

of dubious distinction

wearing hearts

upon his sleeve.

now she wonders

\while she wanders\

in maddening


how to plan

a better party

down the rabbit hole.

Unwritten Runes

on occasion

verses attack me

faster than I can speak

tongue twister vortex

more frantically

than my fingers can type

keyboard pounding.

they tumble pell-mell

from my synapses

and I am helpless

under the tumult.


on others

I am dragging the words

from the page

fiber by fiber.

I strain verses

from amidst the paper grains

reading between the lines

like the rings on the stump

of a drought-stricken tree.

the fiercest

of my sorcery spells

falls jangle-mangled


of the end of rhmye


this parched poesy

will be the rune

of me