Round and round the garden
Round and round the garden
Like a teddy bear.
One step, two step,
Tickle you under there.
Row, row, row your boat
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream,
If you see a crocodile,
Don't forget to scream - Aghh!
"Rowley Powley, pumpkin pie..."
Rowley Powley, pumpkin pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry;
When the girls began to cry,
Rowly Powley runs away.
Royal
They moved across the screen like a computer simulation.
They moved across the screen like complex models & we learned
to call this a nature show.
Animals but set in gray shades for video capture with a lighter area for
the face.
Almost white they moved across the screen like a compressed
meditation.
But the song was never familiar.
Because this was the only room this was the only room where we
Royalty
"I gave birth to a princess," her mother
once told me, and I thought of my son pouring
his Grape-Nuts in the garage so as not to wake her,
of the moment her baby, seeing her
now a separate entity, seemed not to breathe,
refused to blink her sapphire eyes.
I remembered again last night as she
and I crossed a Florida street, the caution
light running gold streamers
over the dark sweep of her hair,
when a young man coming toward us halted
midway a moment, stunned, before moving on.
Rub a dub dub
Rub a dub dub, dirty socks in a tub,
Red and yellow and blue and green,
With a hole in the toes and a hole in the heel,
Wash them all till they're fresh and clean.
Rub a dub dub, clean socks in a tub,
Hang them out in a row to dry,
With a hole in the toes and a hole in the heel,
Watch them bounce on a line up high.
Ruined Tunnel
One of them drops radio into hardhat
and spits, Damn it,
boys, we won’ t need this one.
But hell, they had already drilled
the charge. In the dynamite’ s
wake, boulders turn to snow.
Men walk through the trees.
It’ s cool now in here.
Quiet enough
Ruins
Stone worn
Overgrown
Pristine thorns
Sheep shorn
Tinkling below
Roofless walls
Rooks overlook
I told you so
Babbles the brook
Rules for Captain Ahab’s Provincetown Poetry Workshop
The White Whale Review.
Running Away
In the green rags of the Bible I tore up
The straight silk of childhood on my head
I left the house, I fled
My mother’ s brow where I had no ambition
But to stroke the writing
I raked in.
She who dressed in wintersilk my head
That month when there is baize on the high wall
Where the dew cloud presses its lustration,
And the thrush is but a brooch of rain
As the world flies softly in the wool of heaven.