3 Poems

A Leg I See

Before my eyes there is a leg.
It is my own leg, and it is marked
by mosquito bites.
They are red and itchy and protruding.

Strange how I feel it now and you do not, is it not?
Strange how my sensations are locked into myself
made especially for my brain
and my brain only.

Neurologists can explain it all in terms of
chemistry. Religionists have their own ideas.
Nevertheless I confess that this leg
is my leg, and it itches.

Paying for Music

One thing everybody can talk about is music.
We know songs that stir emotions
album covers that call up in the mind
a block of music, a set of time. We
love to hear that song on the radio - the old
one by the band whose name is somewhere
in our minds, tucked away.

And the sound of the needle scratching the vinyl-
just before the magic - the fuzz before
the daring feat - that anticipatory moment injects
squiggly feelings into our spines and necks - it joins
the savage and the conqueror in an embrace -
they start dancing, bobbing their heads,
wagging their butts.

Rhyming Poem # 5

I have a black hat.
I don’t know where it's at.
Maybe its in the closet.
By the way, what's a bozzet?
I've never heard of a bozzet before,
maybe it's a type of floor,
or door. Or a rock band that's hardcore-
or that part of the flick with the intestines coming out plus more gore.
Is it an economic outlook in which the poor are glor-
ified? or a trinket trolls adore? Or,
maybe a bozzet is a bit of lore
about a store that sells only a single apple core
(No, that last definition slash explanation was a bore. Ignore
it.) A bozzet must be a tiger.
- yes- exactly a tiger!
the spitting image, with matching DNA
A "tiger" (not the thing itself but the word signifying the thing) is common, paltry, cliché
any decent coloring book has one.
So let's call a tiger a bozzet.
Nay, rather, let's call a bozzet a bozzet!