Poem 1:
Hair of the Dog
At present, the angles of my house
Recall what Kandinsky would paint–––
So if I’m sour at breakfast,
It’s not you:
I could never abide leaving
The land of dreams.
There, at least, they come true.
So pass the whiskey, please––
Or else I’ll drop dead.
Perhaps these last dregs
Will finally set straight
The crooked angles of my head.
Poem 2:
To the Designer
Sir, it’s a pleasure––I’m a huge fan.
Last night’s sunset; what a sight!
Still, I sometimes feel you might
Have spent the Sabbath working a little
more on Man.
Poem 3:
Prayer at the Dinner Party
Almighty above,
Deliver me from damnation
And polite conversation.
Amen.
