POEM: Charlie



When the late Charles Chaplin came to tea

unexpectedly we

talked little


mock-draining vacant cups


Finally I (a child then) said

“You’re awfully smart Charles”


He smiled


“But I can see your coccyx”


He spat his tea

grabbed hat and cane


and clattered down the lane







Dreamed an extraterrestrial jazz poetess was visiting me at night.  Not to perform godless experiments, no, but – to rearrange my furniture.  In horror, peeping around corners, I watched her drag sofas, and slide ottomans, showing very little regard for the basic principles of feng shui.  And she looked like Margaret Atwood.  At least I hope it was a dream …

What else?  Oh – PLUM STUFF, my unusual new book of poems and full-color artwork, is now available for order from 8th House, and Barnes & Noble.  Why not pick up a copy?  And if you’re in the area, why not attend one of the readings?  Here’s the tour schedule:

That’s just about everything.  I’d sleep, now, except – I’m frightened.  Awfully, awfully frightened …