If the act of presuming a presumption
merely presumptuous
is one's tact of assuming an assumption
known as assumptuous?

If with such wry whimsical brume
I should resume
perhaps tis wiser to subsume
a nom de plume.
August 21, 1998

A required course once took to learn of thrift
although Prof a learned scholar, spoke very swift
how to save, amass or make more by investing it
interest rates, capital gains, dividends - stocks split.

When spoke on global economics, my mind began to drift
World Bank, trade-balance, devaluation of the dollar
these and more were strangely explained, until felt a growing rift
what first hoped to learn, had grave doubts - if I was a true scholar.

Thence came exchange-rates, debts, losses, politics, wars and dearth
no matter how much studied, felt fearful I might fail
towards end of course, equated Profís name with my learningís worth
yet Littleworth prattled on -  my interests growing stale.

Somehow extracted a B, in spite of my failing mind
perhaps Prof knew thick haze he blew, so as a gift
made it standard practice, passed everyone - how so kind!
Graduated, Econ 401 - what value was it?
January 14, 1999

An olden mythic legend authored in ancient Greece
down through millennia, its telling has yet to cease
heralded as a heroine, held proud name of Hero
tis story of her and her lover - herein told below.

She dwelt on north side of those straits called Dardanelles
her love true-held, unlike those of Jezebelles
where each night, lit her lamp within that high tower
threw its signaled gleam - awaited in her bower.

Far below towerís wall, lapped waves by the Strait
stretched a mile wide, her love nightly swam - to date
surging currents oft caused his swim to meander
stout and strong to brest those waves - one named Leander.

But one gale-ridden night, high-winds loudly shout
unknown to awaiting woman, her lamp blew-out
already a-swim, now no light - lost for what he aimed
floundered, dashed upon sharp rocks - left him fatally maimed.

All night, eager lady un-noticed her lamp unlit
when morning came, far below - found washed ashore
his mangled carcass limply lay midst wet sand and grit
body badly battered - those gods could not restore.

When Hero saw his manglad corpse, re-climbed her tower
of life and its wanted hopes, her heart lost its power
thus she leapt therefrom, plunged within in the sea
likewise diex midst those surging waves - just as he.

Their love re-uniting them, as one for all eternity
thus an ancient Grecian tale tells of Destiny
From heroine's name, History devised that word of Hero
those who saw fit to self-die, thereafter wear a halo
til gave it a self-sacrificing connotation
gifted, as that ultimate mark of denotation.

Yet tis clear, was Leander who gave up his life
(one hoped had good intentions to make her his wife)
yet was Hero the alledged heroine - committed suicide
not freely gifted but self-taken - passing ages deified.
And what about the light that failed, was it someoneís slight
unnoticed its outance, uncast its glow upon the night
would she not have been at the window, wondering of his plight
out there midst those angry waves, long struggled to gain their tryst?

Well, may have been more gravid reasons, why she had out-plunged
to silence any whispered talk of what would soon be found
perhaps shrived for her failure, keep lampís flame a-tongued
thence saw her self-drowning as an atonement - love's duty-bound.

A long hard swim, hand-stroked each and every night of the week
that of itself would be heroic, a man of strength - not weak
to swim that Strait each dawn and eve, an even mile long
thence to while with love the whole night through - a man truly strong!

She could be seen more like a Siren than a Grecian goddess
for such this story seems to bear, unless she was most modest
but of course this is from hindsight, purely conjectured
a class in Greek mythology - some Prof had lectured).

Suspect this fable too far removed from this present age
to ever know the real facts and feelings, those two bore
for this tragic tale still found performed - upon the stage!

Of course this poetic striving tis to enlighten and amuse
not meant to offend, nor wear facts with a fiction that might confuse
to know of the facts, a good classic Greek translation should be perused
to know of its fiction, this poem can be strongly held - as so accused.

Now if one took the tastefull tact, such a racy-taste tells hereof
explaining that romantic wear between Leander and Hero
then heroism ought be ascribed to their loveís strength, love strong-held between
would enchant all future farings of any man - with his sweet colleen.

Or perhaps encourage oneís health by natatorial endeavors
to breast those waves for a mileís length, struggled with human powers
weathers foul or fair, dodge and dart among ships - could easily dissever
then climb those seventy steps, til reached top of that high held tower.

A herculean task for any man to be asked, even by his bride
both before or even after, the marriage-bed is or has been tried
yet I have been told that far back then, in those far-distant times of old
men were truly gargantuan men, with strengths of iron - fearlessly bold.

And the women, well it seems were often held as heroic
for all evidence declares, not one would be found to be stoic
who wore their beauty if not their virtue, with hot-held passionís fury
even after those swims and climbs - a man still must be in a hurry!

Yet today, operatic stages still call for their curtain's rise
around the globe audiences attend, there watch and feast their eyes
sights and sounds of song from those on stage, bedecked with all their grandeur
re-lived again in their hearts - that tale of Hero and Leander.
February 8, 1999

My wife passed away, along with her wise use of our meager money
having two teenage boys to feed, soon found food costs beyond my means
my thrifty neighbors suggested I ought shop grocery needs at Aldis
so why not, surely food much the same if ripe - as planned my schemes.
Much merchandise unknown, different brands enshelved on display
all labels unfamiliar, names and colors never seen before
prices advertised even lower than shelves could convey
so decided for groceries - Aldis would become my weekly store.

With such determined future hopes and long-crafted shopping-list in hand
for quarter's rent, found myself armored with worn-out wobbly wheeled cart
entered foray of brands and prices midst rude pushy women - a no-man's land
quickly learned simple buy of weekly food-supply - required one be smart.

Not one can or brand bore familiar label nor right shape or size
found all were metered in parts-per-litre or of something now called a gram
suddenly this hunt became a dizzy drift, dim doubts to cloud the eyes
in disgust pushed on, right into a sized-E bosomed viper - Excuse me ma'am!

Expertly claimed my unheeded shame with daggered glare, could melt steel
with well reddened face and fearful dread, forced that crippled cart ahead
until felt completely defeated, disarming my new found zeal
wondered if few weeks of self-starving might suite - gift me dead instead.
Coffee I bought, had just enough strength to dilute water just heated
so weak, gave not a hint, tint nor trace of caffeine's strong wanted kick
more like boiled rope, such I presumed would taste til felt badly cheated
even with doubled dosage, still tasted like string - but twice as thick.

Finally found three tablespoons per cup could distill a proper brownish hue
later found an easy measure to remember, just simply half-and-half
if one imagined, wan trace of coffee's taste emerged - but you had to chew
when thought of my health, tobacco and caffiene - might become my epitaph.

Under such strong dosage, was still able to add low prices up
found price twice what former brands had cost - when rated at cost-per-cup.
Canned vegetables and fruits as well as boxed-cake mixes, all a steal
could even tolerate those gray bananas and dying lettuce gone limp
though bacon had black spots, flour, sugar and rice a real deal
found most foodstuff for sale, an economical way to save and scrimp.

So with steel-toed shoes, keeping my eyes peeled for ladies standing idle
continued to clatter with damaged cart up and down those dangerous aisles
til just threw something in, wandering in a daze without a bridle
wondering how many years of shopping could I survive - these weekly trials!

Soon found my weight gradually losing its pounds (or is it gram)
unclear why always get carts that are busted - aren't worth a damn.
Beyond this weary world's waste, if should end up with God's humble grace
there may find my curtsied wife to out-fare eternity's lasting bliss
then finally eat a proper meal hot, each day sees her smiling face
never ever again trudge those Aldi's aisles - those I will never miss.
April 5, 1999

His full given-name - Gilbert Glover Gildersleeve
was a real mouth full, his wife named Genevieve
know it all sounds as if contrived, hard to believe
yet true, a mis-matched pair - although neither naive.

Of course simply called Gil but never Gib, she known as Jenny
dwelt with a batch of awful kids, equal mix of boys and girls
most folks here-about surmised had conceived far too many
an active bunch, wore out house and each other - like a pack of squirrels.

Point of my story has to do with Gil, stubborn as a mule
yet smart as a flying whip, though only taken eight years of school
despite his obstinate ways, usually fared well as a rule
til nearing strip-mines claimed all other farms - was then a fool.

Every neighbor sold out, farm-prices down - soil poor
each time Gil approached, asked to sell - hard-refused and swore
would never sell their farm, til coal company got sore
mined completely around his farm - almost to its door.

Gil held stubborn-tight like a coiled snake, never budged nor moved at all
though farm now stood high and isolated, circle-rimmed atop high-wall
left him access, his long lane but a narrow ridge - required by law
on every side a hundred-foot drop, his farm but a butte - flat and tall.

Still he farmed on, til his pack of squirrels finally fled - wed and went
Genevieve and Gilbert got along better without kids unpaying rent
when price of coal went higher than his isolated butte
was then Gil finally sold-out - raked in a sizeable loot.

Surprised all, none of those kids came back to get their share
he and Jenny wore their days in ease with idle care
farming days finally over, butte reduced to rubble
ask Gil or Jen if coal taken - worth all that trouble.

Was a half-century back, then for thirty years afterwards
county looked like moon's dead surface, but ravaged rock and root
til brush and trees grew back its wildlife and waterbirds
Nature exploited with money's lure - even Gil took its loot.
July 31, 1999

If Earth were spun other way, at least by inference
sun would rise and set as usual, without preference
don't suppose such a change would make too much difference
heard long-discussed - at some scientific conference.

Even same names could apply to each direction
yet coriolis-effect might need correction
by and large, night and day would change with same precision
a chance God allowed - firstly made with firm decision.
September 2, 1999

Late Autumn's chill quicky turned night's dew to frost
leaves tinted varied hues, their once green found lost
ash trees looked ill, barren limbs unleafed by season's early change
no birds calls heard when sun-rise came, all viewed - seemed oddly strange.

Without stir of air nor lofty clouds to crowd the sky
hot sun's daily shining, warmed Earth even further dry
til late Summer scorched land arid dry, Fall rains never came
dirt turned to desert dust, vapid waste - strange weathers claim.

Crisp leaves, brittle weeds, rills and creek-beds empty lay
til one felt as if Time had fled and ceased to stay
but burning sand, where one might slowly die then decay
would Winter ever come - without Autumn's put away?

Those torrid days continued til no one could endure its heat
as eerie landscape curled up, turned to dust instead of peat
no memoried past could up-call a former wear of Fall, dry as this
from dawn to dusk no breeze but heat, should rain fall - it would hiss.

Change in beastís behavior noted by all who inquired
strange tales told what lately seen, weirdly transpired
in any drought-time, all signs fail - olden adage tells
since creeks ran dry, some feared lizards might pollute their wells!

Late Autumn wore to Winter, yet dry drought held firmly on
neither snow nor even frost, dew unformed at dawn
December skies turned lead-gray, landscape still brittle-dry
every reason folk's offered - never explained its why.

Not til Christmas Day, did snow began to fall from a leadened sky
thereafter snowed every day, right through final end of droughty year
 snow so dry could not melt, blew like smokey dust - seen not white but clear
such strangeness continued, til everyone filled with some dreadful fear.

Was not until I reached for more scotch, found bottle empty-dry
when finally sobered up, recalled was not Winter - but July.
September 17, 1999

Among vast throng of ideas poetized by Thomas Hardy
recently re-encountered one entitled - Premonitions
telling how in times of mystery, anything thought true, yet hardly
amazing how far minds will search for meanings - even apparitions.

For when several dire events portend or lately come to pass
if no reason forthrightly obvious, then minds go quickly crass
conjuring up unlikely causes, witless reasons gave their meanings
old wive's tales, sailor-hints, but priest said - truths bent by life's schemings.

When frightful events occur, fearful people become keenly aware
their intensity attenuates, rational thoughts soon forswear
connecting unrelated happenings, creatinging mysteries for its cause
explained circumstances for strange premonitions - caused one to pause.

Til everybody is looking over, under, beneath, within - wherever
fears further feeding their mania, creating cause-celebraé thought clever
just so will be accepted, like proof from Providence for their reasons why
especially true when an unusual death occurs - will someone else next die?

All signs fail in dry weather, an olden adage cites
when lost at sea or grief rends one's heart with bitter blights
the search is on, games a-foot, have the answer - but never quite
premonitions, pretenses practiced - yet not one of them right.

The old gander swallowed a snake, still-born calf with just half a head
Jacob's mare foaled a colt, reported with five legs - not four instead
late widow's grave fell in, but no one seems to know why
cross atop closed-up church, seen by many - risen in the sky.

Tizzy the local crazy found quite able, no longer seen a fool
strange creature with seven eyes and horns, found in Martha's new cesspool.

Last night, clock clearly heard to have missed midnight's sounding bell
bridge fell through, tree lost its limb, two dead cats found in widow's well
no rain for thirty-three days, two dwarfs died of late - who can tell
oh well, and so on it goes, tongues a-wag - flamed by fires of Hell!

Timid Sally at sixty-four conceived a child, she said by the moon
some say Christ popped in at Paddy's Pub, ordered single stout at noon
wavering light seen far out on the moor at night, someone discloses
retold by those who have seen it - but only after Paddyís closes!

Some seem to have a predisposition for premonitions
while others have more erudition for their intuitions
but should it thunder in late January, moon shines full
can be sure across the fence, things are told - with lots of bull.
October 6, 1999

Clock stopped when she died
oft told, no one lied
with all so teary-eyed
its winding - never tried.

Later found clock had stopped
for its weight never dropped
reason why clock finally quit
no one thought - of winding it.
October 25, 1999

As he left, paused to hold door open for one behind
but she tersely spoke - am quite able if you donít mind
she huffed on past, dissolving within rushing crowd
his first feeling lent her imaged - draped in a shroud!

That rebuff so amazing, he re-turned in the store
after but a moment, re-started out through same door
then paused to hold it as previously had done before
experience whatever else be said - or but ignore.

Found string of leavers all filed out in a hurry
unsensing he held the door in their haste and scurry
so tried again, yet this time, found held the door for no one
not gauged his timing, so let it go - left with what had done.
February 2, 2000

Who has odious duty of greasing hubs of Hell
dad often spoke of such, laughing words would wryly tell
I was very young, knew better than to ask
now aging fast - perhaps can handle this task.

Tis my surmise, refers to Hades' bearings
upon which Hell turns with its daily wearings
of its speed of rotational spin, have no clue
or requires daily maintenance by an oil crew.

At my early age, presumed required grease
quandary: how done if its turns unfound to cease?

But more obvious, how deal with extreme heat condition
for am told central climate there, but hot flames of perdition
must be concocted of some other lubricant, unknown here
since would be quickly melted by temperatures so severe.
An old adage cited says - hotter than those hubs of Hell
a dilemma for me to describe - or venture to tell.

One hell of a greaser, if such there be - a duty daily given
spend their ageless time lubricating bearings hotly driven
like an oiler on a steamer, dirtiest and hottest job on ship
guess someones' found to do of such - I hope he doesnít slip!
January 29, 2000

As he left, paused to hold door open for one behind
but she tersely spoke - am quite able if you donít mind
she huffed on past, dissolving within rushing crowd
his first feeling lent her imaged - draped in a shroud!

That rebuff so amazing, he re-turned in the store
after but a moment, re-started out through same door
then paused to hold it as previously had done before
experience whatever else be said - or but ignore.

Found string of leavers all filed out in a hurry
unsensing he held the door in their haste and scurry
so tried again, yet this time, found held the door for no one
not gauged his timing, so let it go - left with what had done.
February 2, 2000

With eyes a-squint, but three inches from her work
used nose to sight along, mouth held with tight smirk
too small a needle, too short of length her thread
growing testy and impatient - one finger bled.

Such total intent left her utterly unaware
of awful mess developing behind on the floor
toddler had quietly shed her diaper - butt bare
scooched across the rug - adsorbing what diaper for.

If was not enough to drive any mother insane
that soiled diaper been crudely rubbed along the wall
then tucked between sofaís cushions, left behind its stain
til mother finally finished sewing up - her girl's doll!

Iíll leave you there to surmise what further events later took place
wore a gentle womanís mouth with words would redden a sailorís face
perhaps should tell years anon, all trace of stain unfound remained
except on two cushions if uncovered - would show once stained.

Family tale oft re-told down the years, should family come to stay
even grandchildren knew of grandmotherís former, frustrating day.
February 13, 2000

Tis folly to be wise, said by those otherwise
yet has been told, more we learn less we know
for less we know, more could understand
til know everything - about nothing.

What are we to make of this paradox
with such trite sayings so unorthodox?

Flaunt high reasonís exalted claim
with trivial teasings of the brain
for at first, seems perfectly sane
yet later found - merely inane.
February 14, 2000

Today just an extra thrown in
perhaps found in someone's dust bin
left over from some former age
before calendars became the rage.

Yet not so old, still contains full twenty-four hours long
guess weíre stuck with it, anyway will soon be gone
get back on schedule, except now one day ahead
soon forgot, future days brought back to norm instead.

After a million years, still canít measure years exactly right
culture too well entrenched, despite science well-knowing this slight
my dad was smart, was his marriage day - for him held no fears
knew anniversaries would only come - every four years.

Even leap years fail to keep up with sunís annual trip
in fact over passing decades, eventually gets us ahead
centuried years divisible by four-hundred, their leap-days skipped
just like I said, never seem to get it right - so donít be misled.
February 29, 2000

Must wonder how long it will be before some jerk in congress
ripens into law, then whets those monied powers to assess
worth of nudging Earth a bit further out from our sun
wearing seasons longer, but cooler - ought to be fun!

They could do it, have enough know-how to get it done
but what about that moonís monthly tour nightly spun
should moon not move out with the Earth, we all might - be none
just a tangential thought - precluding dangers before begun.

Donít show this poem to those at Fermi-lab or the CERN
they might quickly jump at it, just to see what might learn
for scientists dream wild schemes - their hopes innately yearn.

Only poor poets and wise philosophers should cast first stone
noted for their long-view, need be consulted - before all tis blown!
March 9, 2000

Today the Ides of March, Leap Year at that
where could be found on old Irelandís map
a-drink at Paddyís Pub, close-by its tap
as Irish celebrate their Sainted Pat.

At least have a reason from their long tradition
celebrated with universal permission
unlike others, daily guzzle their needed beer
are they who sin - but Irish have nothing to fear.

All night in Paddyís Pub til first break of day
unsoberly leave, weaving home under sway
a penance planned in their inebriated brain
from their annual Lenten practice - one day they abstain.
March 15, 2000

Had bent over, picked up quarter dropped by him
but as straightened up, head hit on counterís rim
which in turn pushed him into lady passing by
one old enough, young enough - both angry and spry.

She quickly recovered, then brained him with her umbrella
but best part, seeing her depart with torn ripped prunella
for through its tear, white slip harshly shown against its black
wondered if either of them would ever dare - come back.
March 15, 2000

First mistake was pinning that ancient hat among her hair
for womanís first thought is how one looks - preferably fair.

With hat securely pinned, ready to face the world outside
left her house, took taxi - attend her grandsonís graduation
held at end of Winter Quarter, people gathered there statewide
little knowing what would shortly happen - during invocation.

Of course would be I who would be held fully accountable
yet I place blame on those elements - were unsurmountable.

Before invocation began, cold March winds picked up strong
happened as all rose, from that moment everything went wrong
felt cold wind as she stood, hands reached to snug-up her coatís collar
needing help, I assisted her from behind - fearful she might holler.

Grabbing that fur-coat, helped firm it up fully around her neck
but in that process, apparently pushed too hard against her hat
at that critical moment, those winds roared up through bare bleacherís deck
for was frightfully frigid, especially here - exposed where we sat.

As I say, was at that crucial instant when made my faux pas
just then a nasty gust of windy blast took her hat - wig and all.
March 16, 2000

Thereís nothing more basic than - IS
least was my answer on a quiz
in fact, complete test was a whiz
yet the decision - would be his!

Scheduled an appointment to check this out
went in knowing, afterwards left in doubt
each had our views, except he had his clout
my only strength - was how loud my shout.

I insisted: there is nothing more fundamental than Is
reminded him, exact words written in answer on his quiz
after an hour of this he simply said, what about NOTHING?
By definition it doesnít exist - I wasnít bluffing!

Was then he laughed, said it was a philosophic draw
not sure what he meant by that, so asked: is that a law?
With that he went into convulsions, became apoplectic
when conscious, weakly groaned - much impressed by your dialectic!

Told he foresaw I would go far, only a question of which way
what about my grade I asked, it all depends - if you quit or stay!

You see what I mean, with philosophers you neither win nor lose
they double everything known, til is simply up for one to chose
six weeks later classes over, found my grade one of happy news
perhaps why have retired early - preferring to simply muse.
March 17, 2000

Crossed a barb wire fence, could make that tell-tale tear
you know, ell-shaped signature children never care
farm hazard ever thought, of when crossing a fence
nuisance to sew, an embarrassment - has no defense.
March 23, 2000

When closed the door, caught his thumb
so hard, his whole hand felt numb
cursed himself, for had been dumb
showing off - to some yum-yum.
March 23, 2000

Who could ever tell, its ring - front or back
money saved long ago - single door bell
often checked front, then after - the back
his death because of that - slipped and fell!
March 23, 2000

Gavin a typical Scot, tight in many ways
every quid hard-earned, in the bank still tightly lays
whenever can, each night drinks his stout - not days
after Sunday church, ate well-fed - then would laze.

Tight-lipped, tight-fisted - with ale stout his tankard highly lifted
generous to a fault, full worth of humor - such, proudly gifted
but of his money, ill-advised make mention of - all knew
well-liked in spite of such, as nightly - tightly swilled his brew.

Never knew his sur-name, everyone just called him Gavin
thought it apropos, rhymed well with his talent for saviní
like have said, Gavin a fine Scot - tight in so many ways
came alive when unsober, when he died - nothing but praise.
March 26, 2000

(In reference to 5972)
Seems like ever since that bleak day of gray weather
my life and outlook returned, til looked much better
got to thinking about our talk, that quiet one - you know
in those shadows by old barn - when I talked with ole Bufo.

T'was other day, when weather wore warm and keen
strolled about looking for Bufo, til finally seen
found sitting in dark shade of big white oak tree
there I sat, leaned back to talk - just it and me.

Of course I did all the speaking, for it has no voice
neither it nor I mind, of such - it has no choice
have already learnd those quiet ones think a lot
was why looked up ole Bufo - to find out what.

Though unable to speak, I knew what it thought
could see within its ancient eye and vacant stare
spends most days in some darkly shady spot
sequestered in hidden gloom - out of sunlight's glare.

Usually found hopping about, or idle in the grass
funny little guy, has an anus but without an ass
in early youth, wore a slender caudal appendage
later shed, soon got in the way of its rear-endage.

Thought would just throw in that bit of biology
my major in college, make no apology
since then have dabbled elsewhere, even theology
if could do over - would go into geology.

Letís see, where was I?

In all that time, Bufo never once tried to catch a fly
would have been highly indecent of it - to even try.

T'were several secrets it slyly revealed to me
confided, as we both conversed beneath that tall oak tree
but are those have promised Bufo, would never tell
bosom buddies have fast become - Bufo is swell!

I finally had to go, for reasons other than what might mean
so parted, happy to have found a friend so quietly keen
kind of friend a lonely person needs, you know - one like ole Bufo.
March 30, 2000

Always kept leftover change hidden in left-over sock
its mate cat once got, Abe unthought to keep money under lock
just stuffed beneath pile of soiled clothes in bedroom
once a year cashed at local bank - that filled sock exhume.

Miss Finch the teller looked for it once a year - mid-July
honest lady she, in twenty years never found to lie
annual ritual when brought that stinking sock, total up annual amount
so when Abe came in with that lunch pail - knew sheíd have to longly count.

Bank still remembers day, when Miss Finch fainted dead-away
Abe came with that pail, sock inside - for his annual bursing
he opened it, then shoved bulging sock for her to assay
put her hand in, then slowly out - held a mouse with six nursing.

Not a sound nor yell, just her fragile thump upon the floor
Abe called of her droppage, another came - that was Ms Moore
when rushed to see, all she saw - a mouse with six drug behind
unseeing Miss Finch, first screamed then ran - scared out of her mind.

By then others came, got Miss Finch to her feet - tend to her scare
Abe neither laughed nor spoke, awaited tally with his vacant stare
Mr. Burns soon got all back in order, sock counted completely through
Abe took all in ones, leftover change gave to Miss Finch - each year would do.

With weak wan smile she said thanks, still recovering from her fright
when Abe went to bed slept like a log, but Miss Finch - nightmares all night
next July when Abe came in, Miss Finch unfound behind tellerís stall
Ms Moore did the counting, Abe was told, Miss Finch's day off - that was all.
June 18, 2000

End of the millennium came slowly on
December thirty-first out-wore day and dawn
sat by calendar near, beside tall-clock as well
midnight one minute away - waited so could tell.

Eagerly awaiting with my boys, just for fun
ten seconds soon became five, four, three, two - now one
then just after and beyond - new New Year begun.

But nothing else, no sound or sight nor sense of Doom
black night held unchanged, ghosts unseen risen from their tomb
no flash of lightning's crack from loud thunder nor sonic boom
as waited by calendar and clock - in that silent gloom.

Five after, New Year began - or so clock had told
calendars turned, new millennium - same as old.
June 30, 2000

Came to sell of fruit and such
for what displayed asked too much
past-prime, about ready to rot
as now priced - certainly a lot.

Wasted my time to view his garbage
from what I saw but moldy harvage
said no - he spoke of cost and mileage
I not impressed - might sell for silage!

I just walked away, he turned around and left
if had bought, he would have gained by wanton theft
later heard my neighbors were bothered as well
no one bit, no need to buy - what he canít sell.
August 3, 2000

With Autumn well in hand, rime turn to dew
those snow squalls swirled past - but left no snow.

In an idle moment thought, until Winterís through
will have no meetings with ole Bufo spoken to
has a habit of hibernating when Autumn's through
until next Spring, must fend life without its point of view.

But when Spring arrives and sunís warmth thaws soils deep
eventually, such heating awakens its sleep
will have long to wait, wearing frozen winter through
til seasons change, will miss ole Bufoís point of view.
October 7, 2000

How long do you think the world will last?
such queried ole Bufo, once idly asked
Least til you pass away - and I as well
all need to know,  beyond that - who can tell?

When did God first decide to procreate
until brought life to actually actuate?
Not sure, Bufo said, but was rather late
such those fungi underground - indicate.

How say you - if life came long afterward?
Life a tough one, took time (Godís laughter heard)
rather a tricky bit, how to replicate
til goet atoms arranged - so could duplicate.

I soon surmised where all this was leading to
absolutely nothing - Bufoís point of view
gave notice duties made call, I was through
as got up, Bufo allowed - much unknew.

Later, mused what Bufo had wisely shown
answers to such questions, need not be fully known
for our mutual friendship was all that really mattered
talks with Bufo always pleasnat - our kinship longly gathered.
November 4, 2000

What is that gadget - whatchamacallit?
Oh, this dingus?
Yes, whatís it called - thingumabob seen you had
some sort of whatsit, gizmo or doodad?
That thingumajig seen there on the what-not?
Yes - oh that!
some silly dohinky - she went out and bought!
November 19, 2000

Never seen a toad beneath nor atop a toadstool
though as a child spent hours looking - unfelt a fool
so much for first-grade primers used - when I went to school.

As pictured in fairy-tales, looked handy too
catching flies attracted to fungiís sticky goo
or below, seek cool shade to escape dampened dew.

All that early learning recently been replaced
for made friends with ole Bufo, my pet toad of late
strange as may be - both of us easily relate.

So in an idle moment last Summer, asked of this
was only sound ever heard it make - a silent hiss
translated, informed me all was nonsense - so I wis.

Told it about toadstools, good for luring flies and such
it pondered this, as to insects - wouldnít attract much
Bufoís mom told him, toadstools poisonous - never touch.

Well it should know, tis true - never saw toads under one
these staid creatures may look ignorant, but toads are not dumb
so much for folk-tales, I trust Bufo - my close-held chum.
November 21, 2000

Now look here you silly twit
this is not the end of it
with both eyes held afire
shaken finger at your nose.
So love goes.

When Yuletide tinseled tree bedecks
gladly write out hundred-dollar checks
but three dollars for a spoon - good gracious
outlandish, preposterous, outrageous!
Love found audacious.

All morning taken, deeply rapt - lately grasped
ten points finely tuned, yet fragilely clasped
thence she opportunes, some cherished need demands
you vaguely say Huh? She leaves - door loudly slams.
Love be damned.

With eyes a-sparkle, calls - new dress showing
enslaved at her machine, all week sewing
too late catch yourself, for first remark you spoke
head drops, eyes turn slits - fires of anger stoke
about-faced, ups those stairs - naught said as she leaves.
Love but grieves.

Guest at table, first spoonful of soup - you compliment the wife
knowing usual fare daily ladled, for such tis married life
guest instantly agrees, wife smiles - but you know what she must think.

After guests left she washes, you dry - all quiet at kitchen sink
before she begins to tell, you catch her waist
upon her unspeaking lips - your kiss is placed.
So love tastes.

Canít we listen to something else, all morning heard of such
couldnít we find some other station, with light musicís touch
so you get up and dial, until her eyes tell - Yes, like that.

Long learned not to speak, quietly go back to where you sat
tuning out those distracting tones, modern music booms
suffered like Chinese water-tortures - before Death dooms.
So love fumes.

Pace the floor waiting so wonít be late, glance clock each turn
be down in a minute, my patience begins to burn
early ready, then back up those steps - to make some change.
Love is strange.
December 1, 2000

Jack held best of cards, all night it seems
sort rest of us held but in our dreams
wall clock seemed aloof from our play
though each hour - out-chimed its say.

In our tent lantern swung high, brightly lit
still hard to see, too many shadows flit
most chips made way to pile up at Jack
try we tried - none of us won any back.

Although all getting tired, each still keen to win
would have played more, but last chip - ended up with him!
December 21, 2000

Age of childhood that holds no shame
pull and squeeze to make it squirt, then aim
knowing it will never hurt - kidís game
til almost everyone will laugh
but not the cow - nor its calf.
February 7, 2001

Ears muffed with hat pulled low above his eyes
collar up, mittens on - more bulk than size
stumped along roads -  beneath cold snowy skies.

Desparate need, self-addiction inly cries
for had run out, now footing where townward lies
there purchase tobacco - what ten dollars buys.
February 13, 2001

Late afternoon rain brought down last of leaves
then turned to sleet, freezing spouting at their eaves
til ruptured house gutters, both front and back
rained two days more, Cliffís wife - took all his flack.
February 20, 2001

Her smile could melt steel
its power seemed that real
within her eyes, heard old lies
be aware - one need be wise.

For then one treads on glass
brittle-sharp, even crass
best be off and on your way
only fools - decide to stay!
March 13, 2001

When Time felt need to end its day
merely told sun be on its way
Sol obliged, a simple thing to do
since earth's turning - brought night in view.

When Space grew tired of where always stood
merely shifted place, for of such it could
latitude and longitude raised quite a stink
are such silly thoughts as these - can make one think.

When When wore out, forever gave up its past
happy for this reprieve, too long had last
Time kept on apace, unknowing of what might cost
history buffs still regret - what those old-days lost.

When Where reshifted, as tectonic plates slowly lifted
rejoiced, at last encountered those climes warmly gifted
so slow, no one noticed when Place had reshifted
nor when new continents - were slowly uplifted.
May 24, 2001