dear professor,

You ask
Where to have our class
As Delta sneaks in.
Savage kin
Of covid one
Seeking lethal fun.

Under a tree
Is perfect, you see.
If not,
Please allot
A big room,
Rather than

Corporate baby,
Everyone in a tomb
Of camera angle.
Trapped in seat
Authority loves neat
Rows of faces
No one dares 
To be defiant.


me under a tree

Whilst You Sleep

Whilst you sleep
REM deep
I clean up
with open end of a cup
the dead baby rat.

Our cat
is bemused.
Why not eat it
if we choose?

She crouches.
She sniffs.
Did you forget
to refrigerate this?

I wince,
my nose i pinch.
I ready the cup,
oh, look up.

Spiders have laid their web
over the corpse.
They'll have to find another bed.

Never let it be said
you do all the housework
for I have been hunting
under the crawl space rafters.
I guess this is your wedding perk.

This Poem For You

Sally walks her dog
black Lab tongue
already hanging in July's rising heat.
Strung across Brian's stair railing
a broken spider web
glimmers wit rainbow roads
once trod,
now abandoned.

We sit on stoops,
of furnaces and photos.
Birds sing seeking mates.
A train calls out warning
as it passes through the City.

My cat
sits by the door,
eyes lazily squinting,
flicking her tail,
teasing leashed dogs, 
tracking pigeons' flight.
She jumps to
the top of the armchair,
stretches out.
It's nap time again.

I smile goodbye,
go back inside
for breakfast and tea
to write
this poem
for you.

7/14/21  8 a.m.

Denise’s Cat

Not Shroedinger’s cat

She was treated much better than that.

Denise saw a mouse in her home.

Did she run screaming?

Nope, went to a shelter and got a cat.

Now, she told that cat

No hugs, cuddles or petting

You have one job.

I expect you to do it well.

Catch those mice

Running around this house.

Cats will not obey

Any command that doesn’t suit them.

But that cat

Was one damn happy cat. 

She had a job she liked.

Faithfully moused,

playing with them to her heart’s content.

Denise didn’t mind as long as the mouse

Was dead in the end.

Even if, 


she had to hit them dead with a hammer.

Denise moved from the city.

There were no more mice.

The cat was old,

Loved sleeping in the sun.

When death came

She wasn’t cuddled or fussed over or pet.

Without pity

She was taken for that shot of death.

As she drifted away

She dreamt of chasing mice

And her friend 

with a hammer.

July 2021

portrait of Neko 6/13/21