fantasizing of a chance encounter in the gutter

the deluge of water
is plethora of impossibilities
to the soul
in the shallowness
of voices
whose notions
are obstructing
the outflow
of my lucidity.
Their words
are humid and tasteless.
Their ways
are rustic,
and the compulsion
of their unhappiness
is to my ears’ disadvantage.
In this glut
of rainwater
and unsolicited relations,
though disinclinedly felt,
I fantasize
of oneness
with the gutter,
an estuary
of the artist and the poet.


a penny for your words


i do not know what a penny is, nic,
but this i happ’ly give you for your words.
amidst cough, colds, and pains of being sick,
to find your sonnets brings a smile of sorts.

oh yes, dear, who else has attempted so?
to conjure, even failingly, 10 syllables
per line in 2 sixes and couplet poem?
ne’ermind if the ideas are in shambles.

though at the back of my mind I wonder
who’s this love celebrated in your poem,
i keep my curiosity for later
and grant you what i hand only to some.

sweet danica, in this violent weather,
allow me to grade your poems even sweet’r.