About Ed Wickliffe

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Ed Wickliffe is semi-retired to a golf course in Florida after a sales and consulting career in business software and systems. He and his wife, Molly, follow their granddaughter’s softball exploits when not lazing by the pool or barbequing with friends and neighbors after work. Always a poetry hermit, Ed is also an Administrator and Moderator of the Critical Poet, one of the busiest poetry workshops on the world-wide web. A number of Ed’s poems have been nominated for competition in Web Del Sol’s International Board of Poetry Communities. Several of his poems have been finalists in that recurring event for the best poems to be found on the web.  He has also been published in Rattle, a nationally recognized print journal of poetry.





Glimpses From a Presidential Fly-By


The gulf city gone adrift gamblers

toxic on sermon floating sewage

bottle of  hull water lake-sized

rising amoeba sea-wide screen

satellite thriving if more than also

live oaks flying dead moss attics

through flag-like dwell flay barking

dog eyes plank door hydro cash

attack they look like bees down

there go figure eighting the hive-

man nears dancing rooftops please



Side note, call Dick. What's up? ...




Okay, now

here's your photo-op, sir:

you'll be hugging a black girl, twice.


(It's like kissing babies after church,

just about).




The morning trolley rickets full

cattle cars west along hop

and drool boulevard, past

paddle and campbell can to

the shotgun canal, thence south

by southwest to point of origin, no:

to point of departure.


Where do you suppose they're all going?

...'Bout time, then. It's stupid to be there.




Whoever invented term limits understood

the power of morons.


I can tell you that much, John.


©2005 Ed Wickliffe