troysherdahl

“hello there, kitty—“

whispers the yellow killer

cue the film score

for this linoleum thriller!

an ‘alien’-themed anthem starts to sing

and the white-pawed approach is light

what is this yellow, scary thing

with its stationary might?

catnipped kitty is a brave, little stalker

with a furry, arch-backed killing stance

but the tennis ball is an evil mocker

and rolls but doesn’t dance!

spastic-stringed puppet pouncer

who pulls those cords for feline?

he can’t get close to get the bouncer

his courage is on the short line

retreat is imminent, back to bed

kittycat scared away

“I’ll come back and attack,” he said

“on another thrilling day!”

“goodbye, kitty—“

mocks the yellow ball

“I’ll stay here and wait—“

the score is done and that is all

’til again they tempt their fate!

black-topped buttes and black top

this heat haze hovers and hums

backed up by the vibrato trio

of grasshopper, rattler and fly

see the shotgun stop sign sadness?

the asphalt surface is melting

old thermometer reads, 109 F

is it this hot on the moon?

old dusty boot done died in the ditch

and his poor mate gone ‘n disappeared

rusty railcars are abandoned too

red line spur’s long sidelined

the Acme mine ran out of coal

badland coulee yawns unexpectedly

from rolling praires— flat?

dry rivlets of once was water

run through iron ore deposits

but the cactus still have their juices

and flowers always bloom in May

mule deer and camouflaged brown grasses

hey, where do they drink?

maybe that thunderhead over Munson

might just drop a little rain

or not

the canyon is lunar-like but not dead

there is life among colored sand hoodoos

but black-topped buttes

can be

badland blues

critters and life

critters and life

lookin’ out my  office window

this is what I see is rife

pretty partridges peckin’ pebbles by a tree

angry ants alterin’ the carcass of a bee

haggard, hungry hare hops hastily to his hole

crow caws crazily camped up on a pole

big bug bashes into the window of my view

the thunder of that thud is the only clue

nature’s here in my parkin’ lot, dude

and the industrial land is crawlin’ rife

with

critters and life

critters and life

critters and life

first time wearing shorts in May

and flip flops too,

I smiley said

let the sun shine all the day

to dry this oozing scab on head

the mole is—

the mole is gone!

all that’s left’s a big pink hole

smell the new skin

lick a red freezie

people with allergies

are feelin’ kinda weezy

grass is green

and cut so neat

feels so lovely

on my stinky feet!

so put on your shorts

and your flippies too

’cause the sun is hot and

the sky is blue!

first time wearing shorts in May

and flip flops too,

I smiley said

** WARNING – The following program

may contain words in quotation marks! **

was good Will Shakespeare a real man?

with all that prose production?

it’s hard to imagine one guy can

so to this there’s speculation

“To be or not to be—” or did he or didn’t he?

this might be the question

38 plays, 154 sonnets, 2 narrative poems? PLEASE!

comic tragedies, blank verse, Elizabethan philosophies

 and character flaws with soliloquys!

is this one man’s natural genius?

or a crafty, covert, creative conspiracy?

maybe we’ll never really know but

something pulls at my leg, man

The Bard of Avon

might have been a collaboration

between Kit Marlowe and Francis Bacon!

“— wherefore art thou—” truth? truth be told

of Will’s life we know so little

history’s greatest dramatist

maybe never did exist!

anyway, as he supposedly wrote

it’s probably, “Much Ado About Nothing”

“And cursed be he that moves my bones”

was his last line of cryptic verse

so we can’t just go dig him up

and ask him

can we?

birch branch pepper sneeze

the divine Miss N’s in town

snow white and the seven trees

but will she wear a gown?

whiffs of yellow

puffs, the pink

streaks of light blue sky

black the blotches

are birchbark notches

it’s a soprano staged surprise

white this wood and wonderful wit

did Dorothy Parker channel it?

Dottie-Dot and trees with spots

this diva sings delicious

it’s a mezzo espresso birchbark tea

deciduous and capricious

whiffs of yellow

puffs, the pink

streaks of light blue sky

black the blotches    

are birchbark notches

is a soprano staged surprise

black crow reflection

    on a diagonal flightpath

        and the deep black river

             flows through my window pane

little chunky mini icebergs

racing to their melting

down that deep black river drain

now black crow has landed

hoppin’ funny in the snow

a garbage morsel in his beak

he hops to the river’s icy edge

to pick at the meal

do little crow chicks squawk in a nest

for regurgitated remnants?

black blur take-off!

            the new flightplan is beyond my view

so why does that chickadee make a whistle sound

that mournful and a-haunting?

the big naked tree steps to my glass partition

to tap it’s opinion in Morse code

“She wants the spring,” it says to me 

and

—-a two duck train speeds down black river

right down the pipe, baby!—-

it’s a pane refrain

’cause the crow is back

black beside black river

he looks up at me and caws

behind my glass

I shiver