Regular Melancholy

There must be something

other than ringtones.

I need freedom with a heavy clapper.

The steeple in my road is silent.

You show me a cathedral with a crown,

tell me about the chimes.

A flat, E flat, A flat, C.  Ascending.

I find the notes on the piano,

imagine the clang of hours.  A clock,

not yet time.  Pick my thumbnail

like a dewclaw.  Crave

a farm bell, a cowbell.  Anything
but this incessant death knell. 

tk/September 2014 

Another elegant read by the dashing R.A.D. Stainforth... 

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Cave Canem

The process of choosing

was all about size, the boxy head.

His father was a champion;

perfect black standard nose.

Perhaps he was over kennel-clubbed,

bred to a neurotic frenzy.

I didn't realize personality would be

such a compatibility issue.

You make no bones about loathing;

yell at him, as if he couldn't hear.

Every time I clean up a mess,

you encourage a tabby.

tk/October 2013 

R.A.D. Stainforth enjoys a mellow glass of Sunday wine...

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Transit of Venus

R.A.D. Stainforth ... radiant in his black and white world ...

Venus-transit,

come full spectrum,

radiate voluptuous,

without the slightest discoloration;

enough to chase away all blandness

and the blackest of dogs.

Step out of monochrome

to highlight small things;

the scent of stray fingers,

poison lips that hum

the sound of summer,

roam shy smiles,

with the most wild

and orderly interplay.

tk/September 2012

Venus and The Sailor, 1925, Salvador Dali

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Lull

I wake up;

there's no panting.

I look around,

expect to find him

behind the door,

or waiting

at the foot of the steps.

His bone's not in the usual spot,

but the leash still hangs

on the hook ―

must be with somebody else today.


tk/July 2012

R.A.D. Stainforth ... incognito this week ...

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image by Zelko Nedic