Poetry: Edward Mycue


Oz is a non sense.

Zen is moments of awareness.

Tao is letting moments go. 

Zen sees in everything that is.

Tao moves in everything that is.

Oz you make that yourself. 

© Copyright Edward Mycue, Feb. 19, 2023  in memory memento mori of James Broughton author of SEEING THE LIGHT book from City Lights 

POP-UP DEVILS (there’s always a new one) PUT IN & HELL

the stench and the knell and of bodies

of maggot and bell

lumped in the hall.

All the seasons of death reflect

the smell of bodies dumped

from the Putin Call – in the government hall

the knell of the last of the wars

as we’ve known them.

This I see them reflect from their call

with smooth society holds

in strife without end

mass death at bay

in a limited way.

The volcano of death

insures life.

As the Incas of old

we feed it our young.

One by one, throw them in

one by one.

(C) Copyright Edward Mycue March 14, 2022


• It depends on what you are trying to conserve
You can react You can remember You can repeat

  • But the tree won’t grow.
    You can save it You can dry it You can burn it
  • The tree is you You can share it You can preserve it But it will not remain a living tree.
    Polish it Dust it Worship it It’s not going to breathe
  • Neither will you. You have to let a green thing grow.

Each takes life’s tests. There is uncontrolled damage.

Release seeks firecracker form. Life is a witch’s hair.

Each day is an auction of Who will buy me, When do I sell?

We are the early grape flat, dry, and cloudy.

The time is short, but some days never end.

There is no joyous lake.

There is no incantation

that can bend the moment back into the patterns we may see too late.

Early wine is

flat, dry, and cloudy and some days never end.

There is no joyous lake.

There is no incantation

that can bend the moment back into patterns we have seen too late.

(C) Copyright Edward Mycue 9 July 2022 Saturday

Squirrel’s Tale Retold*

Green History up and down a stairs’ bannister like a squirrel’s tail retold.

What looks like a weed thing

May be a string bean; what

Looks like a twig thing

may Become a lemon tree. What

Seems unpromising at first

May end up quenching thirst.

But let’s not eat ourselves up

Over the past: look to a future.

Historians say you always can

Think things first come slowly

Never come quick. Then look

To the future as growing takes

Time done and start considering

The best may shuffle in at last.

(C) Copyright Edward Mycue 4/IX/21 Sunday

*I’m cannibalizing from my poetry tapestry.

rime & blanket verse that escapes oo poetry.

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