Unmitigated Mahogany

Solzhenitsyn is in the garden
making a beeline to the kitchen door.
Sprinkle the cinnamon down the laundry chute
for I have no cognac to pour.

Dump the czar's body in the Mother Volga.
I see the desert in my bowl.
Set me free in Arabic splendors
and daguerreotype my soul.

I perch in the dying conifer tree
and view the Chautauquan revel nearby.
The lemonade feels warm on my dry lips
and there's hardly a star in the sky.

Yes, lap quickly from your saucer, Puccini;
it's too dangerous here for you and me.
Tomorrow we sail in the dark of the sun
on our steadfast raft - The Jennie E.


DB/c1991,2014

David and Goliath

i plodded thru
the wet, fog-enshrouded
city streets
one night
then turned to confront
the person behind me
and it was
Lavrenti Beria (1899-1953)
levelling a submachine gun at me
he smiled without smiling
and laughed without laughing
i felt in my pockets
for something,
anything,
and found a bit
of a rubber eraser
and so...well,
here's a tip:
if you jam it tightly
and quickly enough
into the muzzle...


DB/c1998, 2014