A Naiad ran an acacia
ranch in a candid cardiac
ad. An anarchic arch-cad, I
hid rind in hard china chain.
Acid rain char’d cicada. I add: nadir + nadir.
I ran an air raid radar — a cinch.
Chic hair and hard chin, a Rich Dad
can cancan an archaic aria rancid.
As a hero shears a horse’s ass, ere
he hear assessors erase a rose so rare,
he oars ashore, shares a hoarse ear.
See her shoes? Her sores? Or her rash?
She harasses seahorses: “Here, here! Shoo! Shoo!” She
shears her hero’s roar — a rash error. Seers
see, hearers hear. So he hearses her. Harsh.
Oh! Here’s a rarer horror: Eros erases ash.
A sad saddle said, “Add less” sells ads.
I taste a stale Celtic ale teal.
I see a sect, a dial, aces.
I dialed a lass less addled. Dialectical state.
Scalded steel’s telltale scales. Dice stall.
I said, “All dead laid still. Let’s see.”
A sad saddle saddles a less sad lad.
Nicholas Michael Ravnikar makes poems, plays, paintings, kids books for grownups and other multimedia excursions. He edits and hosts Paper Knives. A recovering alcoholic-addict who lives with Borderline Personality Disorder, ADHD and persistent depression, he’s quit nearly every job he’s had, from dishwasher to college professor to bathtub repairman, but he managed to earn an MFA from the Kerouac School at Naropa University.