The Oak Trees In Drag
By John McKernan


Wear ice

With spots of snow



Wave their black claws

Whistle hisses

Into the wind



What is Samuel Beckett

Doing in this forest? Doing even in this poem?

Nothing he whispers

Nothing Nothing Nothing



When I am dead After Not before

I want a spiffy oak coffin

Fabricated with wood & nails

From an abandoned grade school classroom

But I want it equipped with an EJECT button


- - -
John McKernan is now a retired comma herder He lives – mostly – in West Virginia where he edits ABZ Press His most recent book is a selected poems Resurrection of the Dust He specialized in depleted semicolons and the repair and recovery of derelict exclamation points.

MY DEATH SAT BESIDE THE POOL
By John McKernan



In a rocking chair Smoking a bong

Touching his latest tattoo



Hissing Then spitting phoenix feathers

& moldy unicorn barbecue ribs

Into green algae water He kept



Sipping wine glasses

Of his own green blood

I sure am glad I whispered

That you changed your sex



I used to love you

Your long blonde curly hair

Your breasts with their perky nipples

Your other voice & transparent swim suit

With its perfect imitation of water



Now All I can do is scream


- - -
John McKernan is now a retired comma herder He lives – mostly – in West Virginia where he edits ABZ Press His most recent book is a selected poems Resurrection of the Dust He specialized in depleted semicolons and the repair and recovery of derelict exclamation points.