I don’t yet have a good excuse,
I’m gonna get one soon.
I do my best but life gets loose
And plays to its own tune.
So anyways, of all the ways
I’m not at all at fault
For what I did, the fine truth lays
Off hidden in a vault.
While I go search, you take a rest,
I say we call a truce,
And I submit to you my best
Excuse for an excuse.

A bubble’s air
Is all its own,
A half-held moment there.

It’s all it’s known
As bub and ble
From the moment it was grown.

It flies full
Against the stone
That finds its freedom troubling.

More will be blown
For I go bubbling
Rainbows of air once my own.

Pon had a pocket owl
Who lived him like a tree,
With every hoot you’d hear a howl
For they were two of three.

An arctic wolf had gained
A pocket home as well,
And ran the woods of Ponny’s brain
As clapper to his bell.

Once Pon saw some hoof prints
From a pot-bellied boar
That trampled ‘cross his mighty shins
Which brings us up to four.

Then Pon found a pond
In pockets deep and wide
With turtles, otters, frogs and swans
Along for Ponny’s ride.

How can I be more clear
On clothing given me?
The moral of the story here –
More pockets! All agree.

I used every letter
Except for one
From the alphabet.
What I’ve done
In this poem
Is left the fun
For you to find
Which letter
Got left behind,
Which letter
I paid no mind.
Which got shunned?
It wasn’t X or Q or Z!
You’ll be stunned!
I used all twenty-five
Except for one.

I’ll bite my tongue on this one
But I’m gonna clack my teeth.
I’ll huff and spit a little bit
Till froth rolls underneath
My chin like rabies might just take me
Then send me back to haunt.
But I won’t say a thing
If you’re sure that’s what you want.

Perry Snickle Palloway
Was awful pleased to boast,
“I’ve never learned a single thing,
All I do is coast!
You learned your lessons,
More than most.
I’ve yet to learn the toaster
To make a piece of toast!”
His feelings for the toaster
Were known all over town
Because he came and told us all
And any guests around.
But he liked buttered bread,
Warm and crunchy, golden-brown,
With cinnamon and sugar
Or honey dripping down.
Perry Snickle Palloway
Built a great machine
That plucked a piece of bread
From the finest of cuisines,
Ran it through a battery
Of baking tests to screen
Out any crummy duds
Not fit for king or queen.
Then sent it by the sun
To toast it in its rays
And finished that slice off
In a golden topping spray.
Perry Snickle Palloway,
I’ll go ahead and say,
Refused to learn his lesson
And learned so much more that way.

Once in a blue moon,
Twice mooned green.
Thrice in a chewed moon
I’ve never seen
‘Cause I didn’t chew it,
What do you mean?
My teeth have a natural
Moony sheen!
Forth go the lies
About a bit moon.
Here comes the sun
Not a moment too soon.

I’m not completely unreasonable,
Just mostly, I’d say.
And I’ll ride the unfeasible
In the cowboying way.
When I’m bucked to earth
And the rattlers of grace
I’ll rattle my worth
So they get a taste
Of cactusy me
Who wears fangs for skin
Before we’re agreed
And I let them all in
To go with me west
Where the sun at last sets,
Then ride right on past
To the land sun forgets.
So call me unreasonable –
Reason’s long lost.
If I’m conceivable,
Our paths will soon cross.

The dodos went extinct,
Which really makes you think –
Are the don’tdon’ts all that’s left?
We’ll find more dodos yet.

Pike caught a butterfly
Or maybe ’twas a bee.
It bit him, stung him, loved him
And was beautiful to see.
It kissed his nose, stomped his toes,
Sang a haunting melody
With a high-pitched finch
And vibrato-wobbled flea
In honor of young Pike
Before it cursed him handsomely
And then flew on.
A beetterfly? Maybe.