2 Poems by Rod Tipton |

Those Who Ruled Us

the small monsters
that sat at our elbow
who we invited to disclose
encouraged them to share

their gibberish contempt
and senseless calculations
have skulked back sneering
into the half lit shadows

scientists can know beasts
past by their leavings
but the stench of cannibals
is all we have left to sift

The Last Hoax

gambling on the power of a hoax
we talk like nothing is wrong

she repeats the same old tale
but the moral of her story escapes me

my thoughts are not germane
my gut is rebelling

there were nights we looked for each other
with flashlights and bull-horns

hounds bayed for our bodies
to be lock together with grand truths

but that search ended long-ago
and she has blanked on my name

emptiness is already growing
between us like moss

trite conversation is our only lifeline
or gravity will have its way

and drop us into another pointless
fireball of contempt

leaving this room is complex
an informality of grace and disregard

the wood door is near
I can almost touch its carved images

it is with great relief I realize
I will never see them again

Rod Tipton is a writer and filmmaker as well as the Editor of Commonline. He lives in Seattle, Washington.