Tuesday, August 15, 1989

Flying Cows and Other Atrocities

A flying cow I saw the other day,
I turned to look and he flew away.
I rushed into town to tell Mrs. Cory,
She only scoffed at such a story.
I went to the schoolyard to convince the kids,
They told the teacher, “This kid’s flipped his lid.”
I sulked on the street on the way to my house,
When there appeared this time a flying mouse.
And trailing behind him, before my own brow,
Was the previously sighted flying cow.
Into my yard I strolled, quite amazed,
Surely I appeared more than just dazed.
There mother sat upon her throne,
My look must have said “Leave me alone.”
She asked where I’d been? How was my day?
I could hardly manage to turn my head away.
She asked did I by chance spot a flying cow.
I looked at her astonished, she knew, but how?
As a child, she said, she saw it too.
I no longer thought of myself as cuckoo.
I don’t know that the truth is what we shared,
But I remember knowing for sure that mother really cared.

Tuesday, August 1, 1989


Battered lives
Overthrown by the reality that no one dared to love them.
Empty and reclusive,
Living lives of inescapable pain.
Never finding the warm, embracing comfort of another soul,
Except in one like theirs.