Red Prince

Here is a Red Prince
With flaming hair and flaming lips
Elegant tango footsteps and
Nimble logician mind—
He wants to be good, feel good, do good

And the Good Fairy came and
Tapped the bravado with a magic wand:
With paupers shoes and
Paupers hair and with
Paupers food, the dandy was found
Beneath an apple tree.

What is this disrespect, this disgrace
Proclaims the disgruntled,
I am a man of the world.

Indeed,
Says she,
Dis is the world.

Bazaar Worth

What do I want
I know what this agitated mind says
It flogs a bazaar worth of trendy shticks
With always endless salesman numbered reason:
fuzzy and sharp, and painful and soft
Shall I name them like my wrinkles.
This agitated mind wants care
A creature like me.
How wrong for me to neglect and encourage
Five fingered discounts, backhanded tricks.
Why has it got to be so mean
Does it not know I am human, too?

Lacking Dust

What is this bizzare paucity of dust
This room has lost a layer
And donned a clean new suit
Pulsing a symbolic imposition to
Be a man of motion.
How cleanliness does demands respect

In peeling back the dirt
A bit of the once settled mind goes too
Out with the scraps.

Artists love to dally on the
strength of space.
A clean surface is a strong
Magnetic vacuum of the only just
Tidied.
The cleaning has emptied
Then filled with possibility.

Erasers are erasing of line,
Erasers are filling of space:
Space a magnetic invitation to fill.