May you reach the promised Land


I have loved you and I’ve held you.
Many years,you have been mine;
As the time has come for parting
Let’s embrace for one last time.

You know you have to leave me,
Though you desired a longer stay.
Let me hold you in my arms now
For just tonight and perhaps one day.

Then I’ll watch you travel on,sweet.
We take this last step all alone.
I’ll be here beside you watching.
I shall feel when you are gone.

May you accept, may you surrender.
May  you reach the promised land.
Into this earth my tears will fall, love,
As I recall your tender hands

Make it rechargeable

Why do you think it’s inappropriate for people over 70 just stay in bed all day if?

Please keep out. I got some sex toys for Christmas and I’m trying to put the cat to sleep 0.,

It’s not my fault I’ve got so many hormones in my body. I got the wrong prescription

The strange noise you can hear is my vibrator. I’ve lost it. (Double entendre()

If you find me dead rest assured that I enjoyed the last 15 minutes.

My will is in the drawer with the tablet.

No it’s not the original one. But it looks exactly the same.

Having rheumatoid arthritis schizophrenia and migraine could not deter anyone from  seeking a sexual partner why not send them a contact lens?

I don’t see why men should enjoy my body more than I enjoy it myself

I had heard of trial and error and then in the art class a retired physicist said that they used to call it trial and  horror during the war when they were studying radar .


Is it illegal to put sex toys into Christmas stockings? Not to mention nuts.

I didn’t realise  how looks could kill until I saw your photographs 

Twinkle now oh little car

Hello Katherine are you going to Mars on Sunday?

I was wondering about an evening bath.

Are you going listen to Beethoven’s trial in sombrero?

What about Mozart’s clarinet twin set?

I want to get a new sinful coat in the gales

Where is your mouse truncated?

He says who wants to paint your balls?

I hope he will change the sea lion.

What about the Hunt bore,

It’s illegal to count boxers.

Is your dog a large warrior?

Have you possibly exams on your whores?

I guess I was tight 

What sort of fear do you like?

Who wrote about the finality of evil,?

Can I have my own Korea?

What do you think of speech to vexed in 5 words?

What do you think of a bird being banned?

Could the Red Sea divide again?

What about Solomon’s twinkle?

Humour and poetry



In 1993, I took a left turn one day out of my MFA program and found myself at the National Poetry Slam in San Francisco. There I discovered several poets who were funny for the sake of being funny. Particularly Hal Sirowitz from New York (“don’t stick your arm out the window, mother said” and Matt Cook from Milwaukee (“it was easy to write the Great American Novel, back when there were only five American novels”) Both poets initially delighted me and confounded me: There are no similes, a voice in my head said. What would Tom Lux (my first teacher) say? the voice continued. Despite my resistance, I believe those poets gave me a kind of permission to explore humor a little more vigorously in my second book, The Forgiveness Parade (1998), for “I thought the word loin and the word lion were the same thing. I thought celibate was a kind of fish”. Perhaps in that book there were places where I was too vigorous in my pursuit: looking back there are a few poems that are just a little too jokey somehow, a little one-dimensional.

I am becoming aware of how some humor can set a roadblock for the poetic speaker, making it impossible for the speaker to get back to a serious place. And how some other (less frequent) uses of humor can leave that door open. I want to leave that door open

Perhaps I’ll call the cat Tamara Jane

We fell into a rhythm as we walked
Arm in arm we wandered as we talked
We looked into folks’ windows  as dusk came
Tried to guess their furnishings and names

Some had nothing but the ironing stacked
Others  had the furniture we lacked
I bought a chest of drawers for three pounds
We had a double bed where our cat lounged

I bought a little table made of oak
Fifty pence at auction, go for broke!
A few old armchairs covered in green cloth
Too severe to be a home  for moths

Now I look at pictures on the walls
I see the sun turn mauve as down dusk falls
Images both simple and  robust
One a choice the other  nature’s lust

I see my sofa like a treasure ship
I lie upon  it dreaming  humorous quips
I  dream of journeys on the little train
That signifies  what sleep means to my brain

The rocking chair is empty of the cat
I see one in my garden, not my lap.
I try to tame this immigrant  I like
I shall give him food and call him Mike.

Oh,dear that is my brother, will he mind?
I know he loves the birds, and cats do bite
He is not living here in my old road
Otherwise he’ll hear me shouting “Claude”

Perhaps I’ll call the cat Tamara Jane
In case they’re very sensitive to names
For I know not the gender of the beast
They may be quite fluid  at the least

Now my husband cannot calm me down
I’d like his verdict on my new nightgown
But all I can remember is that rhythm
I fell into walking  out  with him