Thomas Hardy’s Mother Goose
Hey diddle-diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon.
The universe chuckled to see such sport:
They’ll die, and in misery, soon.
Child of the Fifties
If you took a cultural X-ray of my mind,
Musil, Mann, and Proust aren’t who you’d find.
Chatting amiably inside my head
Are Isotope Feeney, Zorro, and Mr. Ed.
John Harris lives in Savannah, Georgia, where he moved after living for many years in LA. His poems have appeared in Nimrod, Rattle, Askew, The Gay & Lesbian Review, and other publications. He’s working on his first book.