November 30

No, Thank You


Doesn’t matter how you describe them

Barrels, odors, flowers, fruits

There’s no way I’ll drink that IPA

My precious tastebuds I won’t pollute


Doesn’t matter if life’s in mayhem

Made with spicy ginger root

I’ll drink your IPA? There’s no way

In this decision I’m absolute


Doesn’t matter what’s this week’s problem

Or the day’s familial dispute

There’s no way I’ll drink your IPA

My precious palette they just don’t suit


Doesn’t matter the carpe diem

Or if the label is so darn cute

I’ll drink your IPA? There’s no way

About this choice, I am resolute


(A ZaniLa Poem)

September 21

Reactor Reaction


If I heard this siren on a time and day

Other than 2pm on the month’s first Monday

Would my flight or fight or curiosity kick in?

How will I move in a world approaching ruin?

Will I head away from troubled curved cooling towers

Sharing the car filled with furred, feathered, and handsome on a road trip for hours?

Do we hole up in the basement with the camp stove, well water and canned goods

Protected by cinder block walls, clay soils and doors of wood.

Or does the suction of the fridge door opening proceed the crack of a couple beer cans and the creak of the deck chairs

Flair and glare reflecting in aviators, life somewhere between psychedelic dream and nightmare.

To some this may seem devil-may-care

(Curiosity wins again)


(An Azby Poem)