October 2014: Jazz Sandwich

(Note: I just reworked this poem, originally penned in 1996, as a hay(na)ku. I like it better this way. Hope you do, too.)

Wait 
at the
all night restaurant,

wait
for a
chance to leave

without
paying. Why
not? They've fed

you
nothing but
sugar cookies and

fatty
meats washed
down with bitters.

So
munch your
sandwich and harp

on
your kite
strings and watch

multicolor
dreams dive
and flutter in

shifting
winds. Wait
for that right

someone
to take
to the prom

while
scents of
fried universes waft

from
the kitchen.
Jazz sandwich, jazz

sandwich,
O what
can you be?

Jazz
sandwich, jazz
sandwich taking bites

out of me.

© Bob Loomis
October 2014

Reawakened! A Toast Then ...

Folks with whom I've already shared this poem like it, so, after a long silence here, I offer it:

A TOAST THEN

Anna's hummingbirds

& years fly 

past 

so fast 

all you want

is

a laughing 

friend who'll share 

songs

with an

ear for melody, 

harmony,

perhaps sing 

along, offer not 

overly 

critical suggestions, 

knowing that whichever 

way 

the wind 

blows, rain comes 

eventually, 

eases the 

dryness, whets your

appetite 

for answers 

to epistemological questions, 

helps 

your garden 

grow. A toast 

then: 

to the 

continuing revolution 

of 

the planet and 

to morning glories 

turning 

their faces 

to the rising

sun!

© Bob Loomis

June 2014