Flim and Flam

Posted on 23 July 2014 by Thomas Kearney

Flim was thin as a chicken wing
Flam was fat as a toad.
Flim walked east and Flam walked north
They met along the western road.

Flam had a bag of noodles;
He spilt them on the ground.
Flim just smiled and shook his hand
And gave his head a friendly pound.

And both of them were in the way
And neither stepped aside
So no one else could come along
To offer either one a ride.

Flam was bowing from the waist
Clicking his heels together
Flim was staring at the sky
Wondering about the weather.

And both of them were in the way
And both were at a loss.
And neither one would give an inch
So both of them were cross.

Flam was standing in the path
And fussing with his hat
Flim was sitting diligently
Where the ground was nice and flat.

And no one cared to solve the mess
And no one cared to stay
And what with one thing and another
That is how things are today.

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Things Have Been Thought About Enough, Already

Posted on 22 July 2014 by Thomas Kearney

In one of his first public statements after learning of his new post, Charles Wright said that, as laureate, “I’ll probably stay here at home and think about things… I will not be an activist laureate, I don’t think…I have no program.”

I’ve seen you out there by the barn,
surreptitiously tucking away your meditative, image-driven lyrics
Between hard covers,
Thinking that absolves you, that it’s enough.

Well, no, goddammit.
I mean, really, I don’t have to explain it to you, do I?
God damn it, get out there and sell us some poetry!
Are you with us, or against us?

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A Dedication, Whatever; Followed by Breakfast

Posted on 21 July 2014 by Thomas Kearney

“I’m very honored and flattered to be picked, but also somewhat confused,” Mr. Wright said in a softly accented voice, after apologizing for the sound of buzz saws cutting trees in the yard that he has described in poem after poem.

“I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he continued. “But as soon as I find out, I’ll do it.”

Since that first phone call
I’ve been somewhat confused, sure. But finally
things are back to normal, I think.

Anyway, I awoke this morning
then didn’t bother to get up.
The sun was shining anyway,
like always. So, I thought… after a while…
why bother
getting up?
I just lay there for a while,

thinking about nothing in particular,
and not wondering why things weren’t really going anywhere.
I don’t care about progress, anyway,
it doesn’t interest me. Never has,
even though I’ve somehow lived to see my seventies anyway. You see?
You don’t really have to try.

And really, why get up, after all is said and done?
Well, said, anyway.

Although, one gets hungry
eventually.

And the people at school aren’t really waiting for me to show up.
They already know where I am,
or suspect that I am
probably just lying in bed, or dead.

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The Natural History of the Kraken, part 1

Posted on 16 July 2014 by Thomas Kearney

Polytentacular, it grips
And rends to flinders passing ships.

II.

By covering itself with sand,
The Kraken poses as a Land—

And rises with an awful roar
When hapless sailors come ashore,

Till falling back, it drags them down
To whirl and spin, and fail, and drown.

III.

A dozen years have come and gone
Since when I held the watch at dawn

And through the water clear as air
Saw my own shadow riding there;

And stared into the glassy sea
As jelly eyes stared up at me.

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Alphabet, Schmalphabet – L, l

Posted on 20 June 2014 by Thomas Kearney

Lily Lake
Loved her snake.

Leroy Lay
Stole it away.

Lucas Lops
Called the cops.

Laura Leaf
Chased the thief.

Lenny Loun
Knocked him down.

Lamia Lake
(That was the snake)
Swallowed him whole.

That’s all.

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A Following Song

Posted on 16 June 2014 by Thomas Kearney

Down by the hill, or lower down,
The larks and lizards built a town.
They sang for fun and lay in the sun
And life was easy.

Seasons came, and came, and came,
And some were different, some the same;
The flowers grew, and blossomed, and blew,
And life was easy.

But a lark grows bold to stretch its wing
While a lizard sleeps and dreams of spring.
So the larks forgot – what the lizards did not –
That life is easy.

Then they went their ways, no one knew why,
Some to the desert and some to the sky,
With the turning spheres and the passing years,
Like life, so easy.

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