Poem #99

Oh, tell us!

Won’t you tell us?


The master-poet smiled.

The smile meant no.


He adjourned to the coast to die.

From a clifftop verandah he peered down

At the swash, hoping for a glimpse of Venus,

Birthing on the waves.

He didn’t see her,

And so he lay down to die.


Crowds bubbled to hear The Simile:

Students, professors, aficionados,

Past lovers, fellow poets,

Those who knew the master-poet

As a sardonic cad.




I’m like the tooth fairy,

In that I’m secretly your Dad.