“He Has the Most Remarkably Sensitive Ears for Fish…”

It sounds like your fish might be sick.
It sounds like your fish is trying to rub against the glass to remove the parasites.
It sounds like your fish is shedding his slime coat for some reason.
It sounds like your fish has fluid filled blisters.
It sounds like your fish may need a hospital tank.
It sounds like your fish has a buoyancy problem.
It sounds like your fish are having indigestion and constipation.
It sounds like your fish like the pond.
It sounds like your fish may be P. similis Kumba.
It sounds like your fish are doing okay at the moment even with the bacterial bloom.
It sounds like your fish don’t need exercise.
It sounds like your fish are accepting your conditions, and are behaving just fine.
It sounds like your fish are suffering from a fungal infection of the mouth and an internal parasite.
It sounds like your fish may have either velvet or swim bladder issues.
It sounds like your fish were victims of cycling.
It sounds like your fish might have Saprolegnia-type infection.
It sounds like your fish (not a dalmation dog as someone thought) has a fungus infection.
It sounds like your fish has ammonia burn.
It sounds like your fish may have a disease called columnaris.
It sounds like your fish have found a comfort zone in the river.
It sounds like your fish have some sort of parasites – possibly Whitespot.
It sounds like your fish might not have flukes after all.
It sounds like your fish maybe going through adolescence
It sounds like your fish are under a lot of stress.
It sounds like your fish was fed feeders.
It sounds like your fish are suffering from some kind of acidic water damage or burning of the internal organs.
It sounds like your fish have bloat.
It sounds like your fish are suffering from the scratching and twitching.
It sounds like your fish is recovering.
It sounds like your fish may have nitrate poisoning.
It sounds like your fish might be reacting to an ammonia spike.
It sounds like your fish have been in a barely-okay sort of balance.
It sounds like your fish died of ick.
It sounds like your fish has dropsy.
It sounds like your fish has come into contact with a virus.
It sounds like your fish is suffering from popeye.
It sounds like your fish has fin or tail rot.
It sounds like your fish have bodies that are more like their carp ancestors bodies than a traditional “calico telescope.”
It sounds like your fish sees its reflection.
It sounds like your fish are probably being picked at after they die.

Our Farm of Snow

We moved up to the far North, we planted plenty,
We waited, but our farm stayed empty.
We weren’t farmers, we didn’t know,
You can’t grow potatoes in the snow.

We tried again, this farming deal.
We tried a penguin, we tried a seal.
We planted a walrus, a small Eskimo,
But nothing grew out of our farm of snow.

Caught in despair, caught deep in its throes,
We made some snowmen between the rows,
And the next day, much to our wondrous surprise,
They’d grown carrots for noses, dots of coal for their eyes!

We made more snowmen, with great joy and great care,
And the next day, more coal and carrots were there.
We don’t quite understand the how, why or when,
But we now grow our carrots by making snowmen.

I Don’t Wheel Well

I don’t wheel well,
I’m not alright –
when you turn left,
my wheel goes R
I
G
H
T.

It SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

and

S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S
K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K
I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I
D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D
S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S

a          c          r          o          s          s          t          h          e          f          l          o          o          r

ablackmark
j
o
i
n
i
m a n y
o      g
r
pastlinesmade

by stubborn sickness,
as if marks are needed
to bear witness –

I don’t wheel well,
I’m not alright –
when you turn left,
ym leehw soeg T
H
G
I
R.

Menthol Hop Phenol Moth

Menthol Hop Phenol Moth
Helms Photon Menthol Shop

Shh Lots Moor Motor
Lot Moors Ohm Rot
Sloths Slosh Cheerers Lots Lost Slot

Them Oh Pronto
Them Honor Opt
Them Hoop Torn Hen Ore
Them Tooth Romp

Tooth Prom Hot Tromp More Home Morph Tot
Moth Port
Throne Hornet
Moth Horn Top

Then Morph
Too Poor
Then Tenth
Oh Ho
Hero Hoer Hope Promo

Mothers Hop Mothers Horn Mother Shorn Mothers Nosh
Heron Tho Tromps
Honer Shot

Tromp
Hot Prom Romp
Mother Posh
Tote
Sort Tempo
Hemp Thermos

Help No
Or
On He
Nor
Lop Lorn
Hemp Hoop
Therm Hoop
Cheer-
less
Torn

Cheerless Month Per Photo Norm
Promote No Mope Home Tempo Horn
More Tenor Omen Moth Throne Port
Net Tone Tent Tome Tore Thresh Hem Short
Stop Thorn Top Thermos Torpors Sport
Phenom Short Rot Hone Ohm Norths Port
Pothole Ohms Mosh Tome Note Oomphs
Leeches Tempo Threescore Months

Toner Rotten Totem Tone
Note Pen
Rent Ten
Moon Parts Ohm

Home Stretches Hope
Hop Heron Honer
Helots Hotel Helps

Honors Lorn Loner

Be the Rose Out in the Rain

Be the rose
out in the rain,
not the rose
wrapped in cellophane,
not the prose
between the pages.

Be the rose
dying for its moment,
never knowing
if it’s come or gone, once
the spring closes its door,
and the summer sun rages.

Nail, Stain, and Varnish

Through a motion – into a lake.
Glued a wrench across the break.
Snapped the hand that weeded me.
Grabbed at the sand for an elegy.

Devoid of devotion, debased and
debunked, deception’s reception,
door under the trunk inside of
the floor just under the attic the
perpetual radio blasts its endless
static, outlasting the keeper of
every beam’s deed, throw out
all the books, keep the pages you
need, rip out the recipes for jump-
ing the chasms – a short run, two
long hops, and three midair spasms.
Try turning the dials til they give up
their tarnish, replace the beams for
the rain, then nail, stain, and varnish.

The Valence of Sleep

He sleeps.
He sleeps away the day.
He sleeps the waking dreams away.
He sleeps a scale on which to weigh
his sleeps, the sleeps he sleeps.

He sleeps.
He sleeps bundles of dreams.
He sleeps binding into the seams.
He sleeps long nails to join the beams
of sleeps, his sleeps he sleeps.

Redacted from “The Children’s Book of Virtues” by William J. Bennett (no. 2)

Morality is good,
Morality’s divine,
But it does not apply to stacks of chips
Placed on the no pass line.

Betting teaches virtue,
Betting teaches control,
Always double-up your bets
When you are on a roll!

Gambling is a hobby,
Gambling is no vice,
When you see your chip stack grow
You feel so very nice!

What Are Little Girls Made Of?

A smidge of Midge,
A tress of Tess,
A cell of Bell,
A mess of Bess,

A nail of Gayle,
A spray of Rae,
A dish of Mish,
A stray of Gae,

A splat of Pat,
A spit of Britt,
A set of Gret,
A flit of Kit,

A bar of Mar,
A bray of Kay,
A slab of Tab,
A ray of May.

Instead of Calmly Telling Adrian, “I’m Sorry, Honey, But You Told Mommy You Wanted the Hot Dog”

You say no!
You say no!

You want chicken nuggets!

No hot dog!
No hot dog!

Your face is really sad!
You’re on the floor!


found poem, source: “Tantrum Tactics”, WebMD the Magazine, June 2011, p. 36…

…oh…and also on the Web.

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