What’s easier
Write verse
Or converse
With the Creator

Playing with time
All alone
Defining atone
Facing the sublime

Or praying
Hoping the answer
Won't trip a dancer
Who’s prancing

To a cadence
Only the senseless
Would bless
A stepless dance

A gustatory eunuch
Roaming aisles
Once never hungered
Reading RDAs
Not a coward
Dreams of culinary styles
With skinny pluck

Yet where’s the truck
Bearing piles
Calories plundered
The USDA says
Shipping undelivered
Spewing lies
While chickens coldly cluck

So our schmuck
Regales
With dreams plundered
In caloric ways
Of menus sundered
Into tales
Of dietary luck

I'll know 
I shall die
When facing 
East
With a tilt 
North

Looking 
West
Displayed
Demise
Too
Often

But east 
Is a zone
Where
The sun rises
There
Future lives

No surprise
A bridge
Ending 
At the
Death of
A beginning

Humans are cannibals
For eating pigs
They hog the smell
In which both dwell
Yet dance like prigs
King of all animals

Then actually hog
All the attention
Even after they bore
Each boar
With their retention
Of dietary dialog

The sun is down
Almost in a sloppy 
North west
Glamor over ground

Now a stele
No rather
A picture
Yes a statue

Usually
An animated
Animal
But now a spirit

Face frozen
But fur split
In creases
Stoic, poetic

Then paces
Better than 
A dancer
With peaceful claws

How does
A kudzu
In oaks’ shadows
Espew

Its early spring
Charm
Oaks yet to fling
Acorn alarm

To wiley
Squirrels
Secretly
Making referrals

To the sun
Be enlightened
Not as much fun
As being kudosed

We are both 
Sharing the view
A menu to her
Springing wings to me

A feathery 
Cha Cha of robins
She preys
For exactly my choice

A soaring 
Eternity
Beyond a chilly
April eve

For our genes
Are both
On loan
No need to redeem

Words could never
Echo music
Sense pulses tense
But sound rings around
Timeless tonic
Drunk by the clever

A verb can lie
Nouns will deface
But time will climb
Cadence the defense
Of what we erase
From a cloudy sky

Noam
The prophet
A verbose tome
Eternal yet

Daily deploying
Language
Annoying
Any strange

Belief
With structure
No relief
Just puncture

Of orthodoxy
expected
Depthfully
Respected

The seer
Of the spoken
Recorder
Of linguistic token

For the tulips
I feared
As the storm 
Took its turn
Open welcoming
I thought 
They would wash
Away with wind and rain

But my thoughts
Were proven
False misleading
I should squash
When the storm
Passed
Their lips sealed
By floral intelligence