Peep the Duck 1:1

Transformations of a Duckling

The First Week:

Duckling, small as a penny
As an acorn, a walnut, an orange
Shiny bright and fuzzy
Baby down and bat-wing soft
Right now you are
Nothing more than frightened squeaks
To illustrate
The necessity of closeness.

Your bill is like a fingernail
Your eyes a drop of pitch—
Your feet the tiny scrabbling claws
Of a mouse inside the walls.

The Second Week:

Duckling, how awkward and anxious you seem
Peering your long neck
Through crooked doorways in search of me.
Questioning, questioning, you catch each grain
And gobble it down with quivering beak—
Then preen with wings outstretched
Your bill trembling to loose the casings
On the shaft of each prickly primary feather.

Your bill is like a spoon
Your eyes a darkened bead
Your feet the delicate webs
For walking the wet earth.

The Third Week:
Duckling, you still “peep” loudly, through your nose
When all the house is still
And your fuzzy feathers are turning
From mustard to tawny nut
Once in a while your voice is hoarse
And your round body squawks
Before you dare to dive and splash
In your sparkling water home.

Your bill is like a smile
Your eyes a wary pool
Your feet two flailing flippers
To propel you through the waves.

The Fourth Week:

Duckling, you grow fat and sleek
Your footsteps patter, like bubbles from your breath
You peck and flap with pride,
Each feather like a finger
That stops to graze the grasses
When we lie basking in the sun.
You rarely call for me—instead you like to fly
To visit all the neighbors’ rooftops.

Your bill is a weapon
Your eyes as sharp as hawks’
Your wings a silken wave
To speed you in your goodbyes.

i need to clear my conscience, it is guilty
when did i become a moral person
i wonder,
pesky morals
and when did i lose them
before
not-me

you want me to lie? Fine, I'll lie.

wearing more makeup today
to hide any outward signs of my moral imperfections
and I must say, it's working well
i've never looked more flawless--
I cover my innocence-less eyes
the ruby touch of his lips
in the blush of a cheek--
and mascara brushes all the tears away.
i must say,
the weight of his arm around my neck, so solid
is more comforting than any blanket
and we both know, that i will not be here tomorrow.

a little scared
that this turn of events
might change my world
a little
just a little
and a bit nervous
that i might have done
something to wrong you

you said, I can't believe we're doing this
but
i can believe anything

today, oh world
the sky lay cloudy
heavy on my ribbons of pavement
today, oh world
you are close to me
from little trefoil petals
to the kitten on the stoop.
She bows in majesty
to kiss a silken paw
and I am anything
but stone.

to easy disappointment

it is too easy to wake
too easy to stay asleep
although the light is in my eyes
my shoulders are in darkness.
i listen to the whispers in my skull
that tell me
"You were always right."
And laugh at the thought
that he wouldn't disappoint.


I toss and turn and mumble--
not ready to work,
not ready to rest--
I whisper over the sheets:
It is all too easy to be disappointed
and that is my failure.

too easy to see
the cracks upon which i step
the softness of rot
in the almost-perfect peach
the heaviness of the sky
when all i wanted was blue.

too easy to be off tune
with my soft chant that says
"I am too alone,
or too surrounded
too idealistic
or too grounded

it's all too simple or too complex
too much abstinence
or too much sex
too much sugar, too much caffeine
too many hopes, too many dreams.

Too much failure or too much success
too many questions on where to go next..."

Writing this is all too easy
and disappointment
smiles,
wrapping me
in ashen kisses.

Days with Peep

Dot dot dash

so i'll have another beer
and cough up another line
and i'll drive home in tears
for the second time

can't you just tell me
when you want me out
instead of letting imagination
play and sing and shout

and you think it's a joke
and you think we can play;
but I'm not me,
and I'm not me
- and you're not anyone
but you