Beach Body


The tide goes in, the tide goes out,
The tide goes up and in your snout.

The air was there, but now it’s not,
The tide macramés strands of snot.

Again it’s in, then out the breach,
Behind it leaves a little beach.

You’re found aground, tide receded,
The nose now knows–you’re deceded.

This seabird appears to have slipped on a banana peel and DIED.  Life is not a cartoon.  Please pick up your fruit skins.

The first couplet is an homage to the old classic nursery rhyme, “The worms go in, the worms go out…” etc…  That’s one that’ll stay with you for life.



here’s a fun idea!
but kids refuse to eat this
death by chocolate

Note: I could catalog everything I did wrong to get to this result, but that would take a while.  Silver lining?  The next time I have an festive occasion calling for a decapitated victim of a tar and feathering interrupted, I know exactly what to do.

Eternal Restroom


I know you’ve been tempted to follow Death,
But don’t open that door, you’ll be mortified.
Yes, of course I want to keep you here…
It’s just…the afterlife is occupied.

Note: And with that, we’re done here. 31 poems in 31 days, from a campsite, from my office, from my heart and from my juvenile sense of humor. I saved this for last, because the picture is very … final. I would love to know if anyone has a favorite; I suspect it would be different from mine! Now we go back to the usual sporadic Bad Poem-Every-Once-In-A-While schedule, which might be weekly (ish). Thanks so much for being here. Any comments about the experiment welcome.

Now, with school starting, I will edit The Tiny Giant (oh, yeah, I finished the manuscript rewrite in early August…more later about that) and write some more of these dark twisty short stories that have been rattling around waiting their turns. I’ll see you all early next week with a grim little piece of microfiction called “Sink.” Since we’re into experimenting and all…