The Muse

(An International Journal of Poetry)

ISSN 2249 –2178


Volume-3                                                      June -2013                                              Number-1




by Tim Suermondt

I walk out feeling noble—
not that I’ve done anything noble,
but just being alive
and feeling noble because of it

and remembering the words
of an old friend: “It’s better
than the alternative.”

I have salad and noodles to get
and for my wife some strange sauce
I’ve never heard of—

lots of noble possibilities
in the embrace of the common
and the exotic—between the eternal
stay-at-homes and the runaways,

oh and the Virginia ham—don’t
let me forget, ever.


by Tim Suermondt

In twenty years
I won’t look as old
as I think I will—
important, since my wife
will still be beautiful.

We’ll take long walks
to a harbor, a park, a street
where the action is or once
was. I’ll watch her cook,
continue to be mesmerized

by her culinary gifts—
I might cut a carrot or potato,
chopping with conviction
to show I’m not useless.
We’ll hold each other

throughout the night,
her red dress, my black pants
balancing in and out
of our dreams, the two of us
growing younger by the minute.


by Tim Suermondt

It was his best invention,
His imagination’s high water mark.

He’d make it through
The long workload, the long day,

By having Greenfish swim
Across the computer screens

Or jump from desk to desk
Into the Supervisor’s

Daily lo mein dish,
A suitable riposte to quality control.

At night he counted Greenfish
Like other people count sheep,

And he slept like a baby
As a consequence.

Year after year
He survived and prospered

By this strange achievement alone,
Alone in his business

Dealing with that which never was,
Demonstrably real only to himself—

His unfailing construct—
The miraculous necessary Greenfish.