Compulsively Aimless

  The Last Day of Childhood  Friends would marvel at two rope swings hung from the rafters One thousand feet of newsprint slung on a spool with a bucket of American Crayons (not Crayola) Supplies to build great structures of the world Legos, Tinker Toys, and Lincoln Logs carried by caravans of Tonka Trucks Superior to the Great Library of Alexandria: picture books on geography, WWII, treasures of the art world American history and Charles Addams cartoons Archives of Donald Duck, Batman and Archie comics         --selected by my sister         --bought by my mother         --read my me         --and hauled away by my father Off in the forbidden realms: my grandfather's workbench and its cast iron vice that clenched and healed dolls, bikes and chairs In the opposing corner whiteness and humming of an ever industrious washer and drier Gurgling and rumbling in dark rivers below lies the crocodile of...

Winter arrives as death but when winter departs does it die? That patch of snow the last one the scab left over from winter’s fight Arriving at night as flurries and fanfare It disappears in the day silently shrunken by the sun I was against it but now I’m for it because I realize it’s the underdog that is destined to lose at the end of the season More poems at Verse-Virtual   http://www.verse-virtual.com/john-kropf.html 

Everywhere and More A short bus ride away from world’s end and around the block from the empty quarter lies the last strip mall complete with nail salon mattress store dry cleaner. More poems at Verse-Virtual   http://www.verse-virtual.com/john-kropf.html

   There go those computers and that Internet again. Like Shakespeare shaping the King’s English:      --band-width      --brain-dump      --Google-it      --networking while multi-tasking. Oh yes, resist: but how can you control language when you can see futility of French language police We could take it off-line unplug off the grid. But even then digital bard is programing our tongue.   More poems at http://www.verse-virtual.com/john-kropf.html

New and Short.  A poem entitled Refund Refund I pay five dollars to watch everyone turn poor I want my money back. http://www.verse-virtual.com/john-kropf.html