THE FIRE

My firewood is green. It will not light,
As I sit here feeding it newspapers,
Desperate to start a fire in my woodstove
On this chilly October morning;
All it does is sputter and smoke,
So I go outside for more kindling.

I gather fallen sticks in the woods,
They’ve been here for years,
Shed from the trees like bad dreams,
They snap when I bend them, like
Breaking old bones.

I push the kindling into the stove,
One stick at a time, shred more
Newspaper, light a match.
Now a flame, the heat of experience,
Burns bright and warm.

GRANT STREET BARREL

The wire trash barrel is chained to the
Endicott Station Commuter Rail sign.
It likes to wander.
Enough of that!
The neighbors on Grant Street
Caught it chatting with their recycling bins
And swapping papers,
It was getting too
Friendly with the dogs.
Now it’s locked up.
Doesn’t bother anyone
Anymore.

______________________

iPod

He has two white noodles,
One in each ear.
He cannot hear.
His legs are noodles too,
The music’s so loud
He bumps his friend,
His noodle legs bend.

THE AQUARIUM

Guppies slide down the walls, some
Stick to the paint,
A Bristle-nose catfish falls off the ceiling,
Flops on the floor, its beard twitching.

The Shop-Vac whines as it inhales
The last bit of dirty water. There was that puddle
Under the sofa.

Not many people are brave enough
To turn their living room
Into an aquarium.

But you have to know Larry.
He’s dedicated to his hobbies.