Mother may I break the glass
or spank the puppy
or drink too fast?

Mother may I smash the plate
or thank the baby
before I pass?

Mother may I fix the sill
or hold my tongue
at least until?

Mother may I save a thought
or  change the baby
would you love me still?

Ed said, “They’re lying.”
Duane said, “Of course!”
Jeff said “They’re trying.
It could be so much worse.”

Ed said “They’re lying.”
Duane said.”They forgot.”
Pooky said,”They’re trying,”
but she said it with a curse.

Ed said, “They’re lying.”
Duane said, “Not again.”
Juan didn’t say a word
as he shook his head.

Ed said, “They’re lying.”
Duane asked, “Are you sure?”
I suggested maybe
I can’t take it any more.

Ed said, “They’re lying!”
Duane turned off the lights.
Mary said, “I’m dying
it’s really just not right.”

Ed said, “They’re lying.”
Duane replied, “I know.”
Faustus left with sighing
but where is there to go?

I watched the fat gray mouse
call the orange cat a bigot.
I watched the fat gray mouse
explain his intrinsic right
to speak his tiny little mind.
I watched the gray fat mouse
educate the orange cat
on the vast numbers of fat gray mice
ready to join him
in condemning the violence
of the overbearing infidel.
I watched the mouse
instruct the cat in the proper worship
of Dog the protector.
I heard the cat say only,
“are you through?”
When the mouse said yes,
I watched
The orange cat chase him
down and eat him slowly
then carefully arrange
the tiny entrails
into the shape of his own flag.

When it is sunny
the murk less brown
a thousand – maybe
more – tadpoles swim
around.

when it’s cloudy
the water cold and deep
darkens – little frogs
leap

in between the gray and blue
a bullfrog croaks
the truth – we all grow old
even you

I do not wear pants
to impress you
pants, I tell you, are not impressive

Cotton is impressive
Zippers – zippers are very impressive. very impressive
indeed.

I do not wear pants
to impress you, I tell you, pants are not impressive
at all.

When the indian arrived
I asked her why she wore feathers
she told me “so I will look like an  indian.”

When the indian smiled
I asked her why it mattered
if she looked like an indian

Then the indian told me
“people need to know
the truth about me.”

When  I asked the indian
“Are you an indian?”
she said,”No, no of course not.”

The squirrel stood beside the road
watching the cars ricochet past
and the fat hawk circling above

“Squirrel,” the hawk called down,
“you should not be allowed to cross
you are too foolish and will be killed.”

The squirrel smiled up at the hawk,
“whether I should or should not
I have the right to do so.”