my favorite cartoon

I think this explains my sense of humor better than I ever could.

and--somehow--the wine.

Although I tend to lean to the aspects of slam poetry, Billy Collins very well could be my favorite poet despite that. This piece is outstandingly funny, and beautifully written.

Litany
By Billy Collins

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine...
-Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.

you make me feel so young.

evasive maneuvers

Evasive Maneuvers
By Billy Collins

I grew up hiding from the other children.
I would break off from the pack on its patrol of streets every Saturday

and end up alone behind a hedge
or down a dim hallway in a strange basement.
No one ever came looking for me,
which only added to the excitement.

I used to hide from adults, too,
mostly behind my mother’s long coat
or her floral dress depending on the season.

I tried to learn how to walk
between my father’s steps while he walked
like the trick poodle I had seen on television.

And I hid behind books,
usually one of the volumes of the encyclopedia
that was kept behind the glass in a bookcase,
the letters of the alphabet in gold.

Before I knew how to read,
I sat in an armchair in the living room
and turned the pages, without a clue

about the worlds that were pressed
between D and F, M and O, W and Z.

Maybe this explains why
I looked out the bedroom window
first thing this morning
at the heavy trees, low gray clouds,

and said the word gastropod out loud,
and having no idea what it meant,
went downstairs and looked it up
then hid in the woods from my wife and our dog.

–from Ballistics, copyright 2008 by Billy Collins; Random House

wise old bird.

A wise old owl sat in an oak,

The more he heard, the less he spoke;

The less he spoke, the more he heard;

Why aren't we all like that wise old bird?

something that makes me smile sometimes.

poem.

The Four Moon Planet

"I have envied the four moon planet."
(The Notebooks of Robert Frost)
Maybe he was thinking of the song
"What A Little Moonlight Can Do"
and became curious about
what a lot of moonlight might be capable of.

But wouldn't this be too much of a good thing?
and what if you couldn't tell them apart
and they always rose together
like pale quadruplets entering a living room?

Yes, there would be enough light
to read a book or write a letter at midnight,
and if you drank enough tequila
you might see eight of them roving brightly above.

But think of the two lovers on a beach,
his arm around her bare shoulder,
thrilled at how close they were feeling tonight
while he gazed at one moon and she another.
-Billy Collins