[Jim Moonan]

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Wild stabs at fleeting thoughts conflating even as the world deflates.


Out of Touch

“Ouch! You’re squeezing. That hurts, Sir.”

Look. At the eclipsed sun.
Touch. Your orange face.
Shake. The carrier hand.
Comb. Your hair into its strategic place.
Face. The nation from a safe space.

I breathe in and out the sequestered air.
My elbow has become the safest space.
Never mind him now. My attention still
suffers from all its usual disorders.
There ain’t no cure for crossing borders.
(I have all day to make sense of this and smooth the rhyme and meter and perhaps make it shorter)

..........

Alignment Blues

“Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Give me that old time ruthless droll
The kind of ruler who numbs the soul
All this freedom has taken a toll
Give me a tyrant who can take control
Someone to hide behind and viral troll.

..........

Bide

“Very well. I'll bide my time. But I’ll get you my little pretty — and your little dog too!”

There's no place like home.
The Time of Panic has come and will go
and in its wake someone (not me) will know
how (and why) we did what we did to get by it.

Who is it that bought the tainted fish in China
just because someone said “Try it you’ll like it.”?

..........

I Let Her Do It

She is quite particular about the brand to buy
Me, I like to squeeze the Charmin’.
(I always do, I don’t know why)
But there's another kind she likes better.
On certain things she's the best judge, so I let her
buy the kind that her behind prefers; on that score
I wouldn’t dare upset her.


..........

Whosoever it is that melts the tips of their fingers in protest will be the last one to get into heaven.

..........

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