Poetry

Where The Sidewalk Begins

Where the sidewalk begins
the Mountain does not end―
The memories of her streambed
the footprints of an ant
course, crawl
just beneath the crust.
And they say a seed
can lie dormant a thousand years.
And they say a dream
can lie dormant a thousand years.
This is not a eulogy
to a footprint.
This is a song unwritten
when the pavement cracks.

God Gives The Nuts, But He Does Not Crack Them

“God gives the nuts, but he does not crack them.”
He gives them the nuts, but God does not crack.
But does God not crack the nuts he gives them?
He does, but not gives them. The nuts crack God.
But the nuts crack not, God gives them, he does.
Does God crack? He gives them the nuts, but not.
The nuts he gives them crack, but God does not.
God gives them the nuts, but he does not crack.
God does crack. He gives them, but not the nuts.
God gives them the crack, he does, but not nuts.
He gives them the God, but crack does not. Nuts!
God does crack but he gives them the nuts. Not!
Nuts crack God; but he gives, not does them.
Give not the nuts, but God, does he crack them.
The God does crack them; he gives, but not nuts.
God does not crack, but he gives them the nuts.
Nuts crack them. God, he gives, but “the” does not.
Crack them, God. He gives the nuts, but not does.
God, crack the nuts. He does, but gives them not.
God does not crack the nuts, but he gives them.

Mores

I like my men more like I
like my wine in a box more like
mortadella in a mouth of a moron
more like vanishing amorists
after the morning after
more than was meant by Mormon
morals and their more
sexy propositions
The Supremes in the name of love stop
more hurt than anything
more or less an amoretto
more mortified
by loneliness than by mortgage benefits
I like my mores like I like
my marriages
on paper because polyamory
is not bigamy more or less it is
homophone homology
the more the merrier
love overturns amorphism