Is There Any Cake Left?

—Poems and Photos by 

Robert Lee Haycock, Antioch, CA
 

In defense of xmas
Across the street this afternoon
Santa was inflated or ought I say deployed
Dressed in camouflage save for his hat.
Who the hell is he trying to sneak up on?
I’ve never seen Santa for all his red and white
On a Christmas Eve ever and I’ve tried.

The boss is off for his birthday
God bless him
(Dissemble)
Now I have the helm
(They tremble)
Not a whiff of open mutiny
But I’ve had the entire crew
Keelhauled after afternoon coffee
Drowned in rope in the hope
That they would enjoy the weekend
All the more for it
I was born to lead

Embargo
There was a reason that we never made it to the funeral.
No, that’s not true.  There was a choir of reasons.
Your eyes like fish drowning in air.
That tattoo gone with my arm.
Too, too many stars.
Not enough water.
Or whiskey.
We couldn’t stop laughing.
We tried.
We didn’t try very hard.
I for one am glad she’s dead.
We both hope things stay that way.
You haven’t been yourself lately.
Me, never.
And on a Tuesday for Christ’s sake.
No matter.
Is there any cake left?

Adrift
She swam to where we two lay
At the edge of the tip of the mine
Watching the fauns play
But when I asked him
How this could be
He took a handful of thorns
And I marveled at the answer
Flowing from his fingers

Hypocrite
The sky tires of holding itself aloft, threatens to come crashing down on our rusted caboose of a theater, on the masked ones standing aloof.  Night after night we hope against hope that Iocaste will stay alive, that the sphinx will win.  I only ever wanted to be a cowboy.  Or an astronaut but that was several dreams ago.

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Today’s LittleNip:

Maybe Christmas, the Grinch thought, doesn’t come from a store.

—Dr. Seuss

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—Medusa, thanking Robert Lee Haycock for today's fine poems and pix!