L.K. Thayer

 

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“Praises From a Tenor Sax”

like salt on a bloodsucker
recoiling, shriveling
paralyzed fits of punishing
pawnshop

reuniting
with the sell-out
the down and out
muck and mire choir
singing
praises from a tenor sax
and a song
you can’t let go of

fill the loving cup
and drink it dry
try to stay away
but you can’t fight
the pull
of the taffy

you get stuck in the
sweetness
and you wanna
die
happy

L.K. Thayer

Photo by VC Ferry – NYC

 

 

 

Jack Grapes

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Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher

( The haiku are from Jack’s forthcoming book,
WIDE ROAD TO THE EDGE OF THE WORLD:
301 haiku.)

*
Hearing Mom and Dad
fighting in the bedroom room.
Outside, the red moon.

*
I lost who I was.
Then I found who I would be.
Only who I was knew.

*
In the safe darkness
of the theatre I find truth:
Annie gets her gun.

*
There’s Charlie Chaplin
running but getting nowhere—
a plan for a life

*
falling in rhythm
to the buzzing of the bees
over something dead

*
Would that I was wise,
not this enlightened monkey
wearing monkey mask

*
They open my chest
and then put my heart on ice
while my brain simmers.

*
To write War and Peace:
In the stationary store
ask for more paper.

*
Poetry kills me.
I can’t face its stern demands,
heart filled with cobwebs.

*
When I’m gone, I’ll sure
miss that dove whose song wakes me,
but will she miss me?

*
Fortune cookie says,
“You will go on long journey.”
Pay check. Leave at once.

*
How to eat this life?
Break the past into pieces,
eat one piece at a time.

*
I love this sharp knife.
How it cuts the red pepper.
Salad filled with blood.

*
My childhood is gone.
I don’t want to go back there.
Too much mystery.

*
Once I was a dog.
No one was afraid of me.
I licked people’s hands.

*
I’m a proud Virgo.
One day I’ll be organized,
surrounded by worms.

*
Some things are too sad
to write about on paper.
My closed mouth writes too.

*
Poems not money
give such meaning to my life.
Sometimes meaning sucks.

*
Shakespeare, bricklayer.
Dante, the wise carpenter.
Me? Corn to chickens.

*
At a loss for words?
Call Jack Grapes, home or office,
day or night, for help.

*
I’ve squandered so much,
and given less than I could,
asleep in the rain.

*
Sit still a minute.
Now, let your heart open wide
and see what falls in.

Jack Grapes