Picasso Bunyan (Campfire poem #12)

A poet friend goes to
the northwoods
only after stopping at
the hardware store
for paint-chip color
card provisions

holding them up to
whatever thing of
nature he is writing of
he then tries to be
Crayola literate
in pseudo-verse

Sitting by a campfire
gazing at a glassy sky
full of stars framed by
towering pines and pitch
blue hued night blackness
I need no cardboard
thesaurus, knowing full
well ‘damn fabulous
spectacular blue’
when I see it

A shade, I might add,
Hardware Hank doesn’t
even carry.

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Campfire poem #71

Campfire smoke
makes a fine
aphrodisiac
but it lulls
my wife
to sleep
making
embers an
ambiguous
metaphor.

Campfire poem #49

A log of pine
a mug of coffee
and thou

Omar, I am
not.