Hummingslug

I think I’m just a hummingslug,
A gastropod phaethornina,
For some days you can’t see my wings,
The next, I strain to slime on things.

When flying, I can reach the pole.
When sliming, out of bed’s my goal.
If humming, I clean house with steam.
If sluggish, I can’t self-esteem.

So, if you ever come to call,
Observe me like you’re Jane Goodall,
Be gentle if my slime has run,
Lasso me if I’m too much fun.

(c) 10/2009, Bren Michelle B., San Diego, CA

My Dad

My Dad
Used to throw me balls,
Used to be so tall,
Used to tell us tales about his childhood,
I remember he was good,
No, not perfect, but my Dad.

He worked harder than I ever thought I would someday,
He provided all we had and taught us what to say,
He made Santa real and taught us how to laugh and play
My dad was the highlight when he came home every day.

Oh, My Dad
Sometimes bucked the crowd,
Sometimes talked too loud,
Liked the opera, rock, and Janis Joplin,
He was hip when hip was cool,
He lived life by Sartre’s rules.

Dad, you’re still my dad today.

A Tadpole's Tale

One transfigured tadpole

Leaving tail behind

Finding legs to walk on

Crawling out on land

Gazing at the bullfrogs

Quaking at their songs

Aching Nature calls me

To a right once wrong.

A Brother Once

I had a brother once, but now
his ashes span two ocean shores.

I had a brother once, but now
His silence burned a fragile bond.

I was a brother once, but now
I’ve melted into estrogen.

I had some brothers once, but now
One dead, one gone, and one’s a she.

Lex, A Pro Cold High

27 chocolate breathing monster mikes
at my postal headline
ate my portable actuator.
Headliners lowered it.

Flavors go great with bacon cheese burger.
Mike said so.

Shovel plants
in the beauty of spring.

Movie night is relaxing with aroma therapy.
Home.

Dust mites get me down.
Steam gets things clean.

What's on my mind now?
Hair?
In a museum you never would get old
if they hung you on the wall.

Pee your way to famously powerful
powder magazine subscription agreements
a genius holes free
and rice crispies from Marie calendar
girls night out.

Twelve tirdy wonder
hAMster.
Wow wee fast

Cricket War

The Chinese find them lucky,
in bamboo habitats.
But, Gryllus Assimilis
isn't welcome in my house.

In black, this evening warrior,
tip-toed inside my house.
Then waited for the quietness
To scrape the silence out.

I’d grill this loathsome Gryllidae,
If I could find his lair,
He’s camouflaged a sniper’s nest,
For gatling through the air.

But, with my ear I zeroed in,
My smart bomb on his head,
The din has stopped, I’ll rest in peace,
Ding-dong the cricket’s dead!

Up Again

I’m up again.
Hah, you are too.
In wee hours just what can you do?
There’s Carson Daily on the box,
Or sort those pesky black dress socks.
What’s in the fridge? A little snack.
Who’s in the chat room, chatting back?
A hot bath, that might do the trick.
Hot chicken soup? No, I’m not sick.
A book? No, then I’d get involved.
Or take a pill, my problem solved?
Well, maybe I’ll just go to bed.
And nestle in and kiss her head.
There’s nothing left for me to do,
Except to lie down next to you.