Leslie Kleinberg
lkleinberg@hotmail.com

12 AM August 25

My Pen Has Glitter

hanging manila, vacilla,
basura, matilda. Lacuna,
Lake Merrittmantilla.
A tasty caper. 68 and film culture.
Dancing, not speaking.
Sheltering baby J from the Latin
Oy veys. Plexi frame line,
round about the third cut:
Would you be my s.o. but only
for the night?
Would you be my short order
fry cook? Fancy sparkly
hunting knife? Feng shui all
Off, here's to pleasantries
spoken lightly like a lady,
Grannie's special lead elixir.
Sugar syrup oughta fix her.
 

inhabit a world where chastized
boys go slipping in and out.
 

12 PM August 25

Ant hill of unweathered shingles
A bunny, a blue jay
A self determined mode of egress
speaking in plain English
corner of a hacksaw, sand blanket,
splayed bags brought in to stop a flood.
Maladjusted roof pitch, time for a walk,
Poem as indicator of perception problem.

I dreamed of a judgment, of my
incessant either-ors
Tribunal said do not write poems.
how much better to organize, be a
non profit network (as if poetry's where the money is).

arc of flight, shells, Daves
denounced spinal column ubiquitous.
I'm so detail oriented I'll pick your
brain with tweezers. Better than
pliers. On Dad's table:
Norman Rockwell, Kodak photo moments,
Western Civ's Greatest Works,
Bite Sized Literary Gumdrops,
The Holy Land from air.
Brown sparrow glides in toward the ground.