Poem

Spider in the shower
this foggy morning
my startled eep and instructions
go backup to the ceiling
small one
please do not eat the ladybugs
were heeded.
But.

What part of that vast rumbling
earthquake susurrus and breaking wave
did you hear?
My nose, the patch of skin you eight eyed saw
is a bit of grass or rock
a part of the moving world too vast
for comprehension
not one animal but a million million

The breaking edge of the lawn
concrete
wind and a squirrel in a tree
are all I can perceive
a fragmentary glimpse
a rushing shouting of surf and highways and air
vast directions
that I only hear part of.

A Brief Poem of Woe About Tights

Why are there no tights for tall people?
Why do they lie so blatantly on labels, where they say
One size fits all
Because it does not
Unless I am not one of all
Which is possible but depressing.
And the labels say these tights will fit women up to 5'10" and 150 pounds
I am 5'10.5" and 160 pounds or okay, a little more, but who's counting?
Woe!

Woe to the tights manufacturers
And also unto the manufacturers of leggings
Particularly the cheap pair I tried to wear today
That had a butt built in
of all peculiar things
But were tight around the thighs, making me walk funny
And They Fell Down All Day.
Woe!

Woe to the small skinny short girls with their tights
Argyle and plum and striped, with skulls and paisleys and fun polka dots
Sneering short girls with groovy tights
that I will never have
If I am lucky I can find tights, maybe
Off black, a horrid misnomer for a strange and moldy grey, with control top
Oh control tops which should be regulated by the Geneva conventions
For they are cruel and unusual and make
The fat rise up to your neck
It has to go somewhere.
Woe!