Age—It's All the Rage

* * *


101213

DECISIONS,
DECISIONS

Colon or semi?
I haven’t a clue.
Maybe a dash
or comma will do.

You think prose
is hard? Well, foo!
Just try poems;
they’ll try you.


101212

EARTH DAYS

“What a party;
but look at the hour!”

“Hey, old folks!
Yeah, hey YOU—
what are you
still doing here?”

“Frankly, we
don’t have a clue.
Take it up with
your Higher Power.”


101211

AS IS

Mean. Funny.
Friendly. Sad.

Of people,
little kids
don’t think
should be,
shouldn’t be.
What they
think is—is.


101210

WISDOM AND GRACE

Youth is the time
when life’s blessings are granted—
and taken for granted.

Old age is the time
when (to those who haven’t
already become wise)
life grants its greatest
understanding and blessing—
appreciation.


101209

IMPERMANENCE

Frost and green grass?
That won’t last long!


101208

UNBLEMISHED

Snarl, bite, curse,
do far worse;
my soul knows yours
as lustrous, pure.

The more troublesome
you become
(the more you break the rules,
attempting to break out
of the broken state you’re in),
the more you win
the love I’ve won myself
and now can do no other
than to offer.


101207

CARTOON AVATARS

One friend is a little stinker;
another, a happy cat.
There's a turtle, a top-cat, a martian—
and what-the-sam-heck is THAT?
There's a smiley one, a wiley one,
a minnie and a mighty one.
One's ghostly, one's speedy, one's jolly,
and one is blue, by golly.
There's a loopy one, a boopy one...
and I'm the snoopy artist one.


101206

CHRISTMAS PARADE

Winter dark and winter cold
seek something wondrous to behold:
like this festival of sound and light
that sparkles ‘round the town tonight.

Flatbed trucks transform to floats.
Beauty queens forego their coats.
Boom-boom-BOOM! The band plays loud.
Everyone’s enchanted… proud.
And there are angels in the crowd


101205

BEST FEATURE

Ours is a too-cold,
too-warm house.
It’s fairly open,
so we go barefoot
in the upstairs rooms
and sweatered down below.

One wall consists of windows
a full two stories high.
It only costs some northern cold
to view that northern sky.


101204

"SOCIAL" GROUPS

From surprise to frustration
and, ultimately, prayer;
group interactions
so often take me there.


101203

LOWER-CRUST
REBELLION

Don't call us crass,
or second class,
or dumb.

Don’t press us
under thumb.

We’ve been peons
for eons;
now that’s done.

You say cream floats—
but so does scum.


101130

THEY KNOW NOT
WHAT THEY DO

People
make so many people
miserable,
insisting on making them
happy.


101129

DEATH’S DOOR

Am I completely—
or just partly—mortal?

To my knowledge,
I’ve not yet
crossed that portal.


101128

LATEST TOPIC

Old age this.
Old age that.
What’s the fascination?

Discovery,
at least by me,
that it’s dilation,
not contraction.


101127

FEASTS FOR THE SENSES

Delights! Delights!
Everywhere and every when—
from last song of swan
to first note of wren.

Something’s always brewing.
Something’s always cooking.

Surely you haven’t stopped looking!


101126

IN WINTER COLD

Some written warmth
can be a shawl,
or a filling-in
of a chink in a wall.


101125

JO’S GIRLS (for my sibbles)

Five Little Peppers—
how they grew!

We wanted
to be like them, too;
poor and loving,
curious, bold.

We grew those ways,
and also old.


101124

MY COY MUSE-TRESS

I asked her help, a little.

She asked me a riddle:
What rhymes with "muse?"

"Come on, come on!"
she laughed. "Refuse!"


101123

FINALLY
QUALIFIED

Think about it—
if anybody’s
going to
explore and
write about
old age;
don’t you think
it should be
an old person?


101122

MIRROR MIRAGE

When I press upward
on my cheeks,
my younger face is there;
a toppled doppelgänger.
I must be careful not to stare.


101121

MINOR SHIFT

Once there was
a little girl
who loved to
(not write!) color.

Now she writes,
most every day,
some little thing
or other.


101120

HUMANS BEING

Their thoughts and acts stay bloody,
but reasons why stay muddy.
They fiercely study, but scarcely guess,
the whys of their perniciousness.


101119

RETRACTIONS

I don’t put pomes
on my action list
but very rarely
are they missed,
(except for times
when I’m feeling dull;
then, much I write,
I quickly cull).


* * *

Pets and Predicaments

* * *


101118

COUNTER POINT

"Tick-tock," goes the clock
that hangs on the wall.

"Tock-tick," claims another
just down the hall.

"Ding-dong, both wrong!"
a third chimes in.
"I am music; you're just din."


101117

ESCAPEES

There's a mouse in the house,
I suspect—just look how
this bedroom is wrecked.

A chipmunk’s misplaced—
this I know—brought in by the cat.
Where'd it go?


101116

COUNTING THE MINUTES

Muse, it's 5:19 a.m.
That's awfully late.
Was I stood up?
I thought we had a date.


101115

PERCHANCE TO DREAM

Things get precious,
just by being rare—
like that thing that knits
the raveled sleeve of care.


101114

MEDITATION
DIRECTIONS

“Breathe—slow—in,
through the nose,
to a count of seven;
hold another count,
then let it out—
through the mouth—
at that same pace.”

(Then pass out?
Nothing was given
about when
to breathe again.)


101113

LOVE TAKES A TOLL (for Emma)

A year of your pet's life
equals seven of yours.
(About.)
(Depending.)

Life with a cat or dog
(a typical choice)
can be heart-rending
as it grows up—
for how it acts up
and what it gets into.

On a cat, you cain't
impose restraint
or, on a cur, a curfew.

Pets take a toll.

This formula occurs:
For every year of your pet’s life,
take off one of yours.


101112

DOUBLE DOWN

I thought “depressed”
meant sad and bad,
but now I know—
it just means low
and oh… so… slow.


101111

QUESTIONS
OF TALENT

Did I—do I—
have a gift?
Did I lose it?
Am I hiding it
even from myself?


101110

IN POEM COUNTRY

Up with the chickens,
then up with the owls;
I’m not one
to throw in the towel.

A poem is something
to not postpone;
I could write ‘em
till the cows come home.


101109

SIMPLE MINDED

You are there.
I am not.
That's the thought
I just thought.


101108

SORCERER’S APPRENTICE

Leonard Cohen, for a poem,
used a book of rhymes.
I use one for mine; that’s the scoop.

Here’s my favorite group:
aquatic, chaotic, despotic,
erotic, exotic, hypnotic,
narcotic, neurotic,
psychotic, quixotic, robotic

Building blocks, rhyme-words are—
keys-and-locks, gears for clocks,
ingredients for a cake;
myriad combinations
for myriad things to make—
including exotic spells to cast
and chaotic spells to break.


101107

IT WASN’T MUCH

“A walk in the park,”
that’s what they say—
and that’s what it was:
an easy cliché.

It wasn’t much—
nothing arduous,
explosive or clutched;
nothing that transcends.

It wasn’t much—
a casual outing
by two casual friends.
It wasn't much—

before our fingers touched.


101106

HEY, SANTA! (for Trevor)

This, for you,
should be a breeze—
put brake pads
in my stocking, please.


101105

I GIVE UP

Clothes, money, attention,
opinions, encouragement, advice,
aggravation…

It doesn’t seem to matter;
no matter what I give,
I get more than double in return.
What gives?


101104

EMPATHY NO MORE

I know you’re
upset about something
and I know you want me
to get upset along with you.
But I don’t want to.
Getting upset
makes me upset.


101103

OPERATIONAL LIMITS

Medicine, what is your tonic,
your remedy for grief?
What can you offer as relief
for pain, intense and chronic,
in bodies already half-bionic?


101102

CLOCKING OUT

Summer birds are seen no more;
sky is emptiness galore;
northern winds grow whippy;
days turn short and nippy;
jewel-toned leaves
that crowned the trees
have browned or blown away—
the year is calling it a day.


101101

BARGAINING WITH MY CAT

“Give me some inspiration,
Scout—to write about;
I’m in the mood.”

“Hmm. Well, don’t be rude;
give me something in return.
I’m in the mood for food.”


* * *

Fear and/or Sanity

* * *


101031

CUED TO FOOD

Am I hungry? Am I not?
How to tell, I forgot.

I eat on cue (from them, me, you).
Sometimes the cue is them, me, you.

I eat whenever prompted to.
Can there be a way not to?


101030

FRIEND OF A FRIEND
(for Andy)

Zounds,
the man does astound!
Happy birthday,
Ezra Pound.


FEAR AND/
OR SANITY

All is well on the Mall
(here as well—all, all, all).


101029

OPEN GATE

The you
that you are meant to be
is now— at least, can be.

It’s not too late;
why wait?


LET GO

I had a job but it got zapped
and now my energy is sapped.
I feel so tired, but not from toil—
more like a frog that’s slowly boiled.


STRENUOUS DREAMS

Each morning begins
as a wake-up, an emergence,
a recovery from dream-trials
of the night—
trials of exploration,
trials of evaluation,
trials of endurance.

Each morning begins
as an achievement.


101028

NEWLY BEFRIENDED
(Poems through my left hand.)

Let me be your poet.
Let me write your words.
Let me change your heart to sky
and all your thoughts to birds.

* * *
Tell you what…
let’s be friends.
Life is play
that never ends.

* * *
My way
is
the high way.

* * *
Here’s what
every finger knows:
the heavy work
is done by toes.

* * *
Sleep is what
a body needs.
"Sleep!" is what
this body pleads.

* * *
Cat on bed—
be careful, please!
Some cats sleep.
This one pees.

* * *
Oh, me. Oh, my!
Oh, my. Oh me!
She came with the name
Sweet Trouble,
but should be called
Sweet Pee.

[ASIDE: Written with my left hand
in a befriend-your-body exercise.
The premise is that doing so improves
contact with the creative right side of the brain.
Also, Emma-cat has begun to think the bed is her
new pee-place, freshly laundered after every use.]


101027

OH, GOOD NIGHT!

“Bats in the belfy,
worms in the books,”
somebody said.
“Bugs in the bed!”

“Rent the belfry.
Lease the books,”
another said.
“But—oh, good night!—
don’t let the bed;
bugs bite!”


101026

EMPTY EYES

How we hurry—
how unwise—
with unfilled hungers,
empty eyes.


101025

VOIDED

What I take up,
I set down.

What takes me up
sets me down.

That is the cycle.

I am handmaiden
to nothing.

[ASIDE: I’d just listened to a TED talk by Elisabeth Gilbert
on creativity and decided to loan this time/space/venue
to my daemon/genius/muse: “Here, say something.”]


101024

SLOW STARTER

Sunday
is my lazy day
(more so than the others).

The best part
is to read in bed
(or just stay under covers).


101023

FOREVER FUTURE

Two futures
are furiously unfurling:
bliss and misery.

Two futures
are furiously unfurling,
or seem to be, eternally.


101022

COCOA CAMO

Hi, Mom, where ya been?
I been hidin’. Look, it’s me!
Wanna lick my cheek or chin?
I been busy—come an’ see.

[ASIDE: Written in response to an on-line photo challenge.]

Love of What Is

* * *


101021

LIFE’S A BREACH

Breakthrough
can be double win:
breakthrough out,
breakthrough in.


101020

CATERED TO

Ah, here comes the morning;
something brings the sun.

Someone brings me coffee;
blessings on that one.


101019

WELL SERVED

Not only am I blessed,
but able to tell
how blessed I am:
Alive and well.


101018

LUNCHBOX PARADOX

Self, must I send you back to school?
A sweet is not a healthy treat.
And don’t forget Prime Diet Rule:
The more you eat, the more you eat.


101017

CAELUM IN TERRA (for Fay Jean)

One joy
(so long longed-for)
life graciously sends…
one long conversation
with one long-time friend.


101016

WEEKEND, WITH FRIEND

Nothing is an effort;
all is light and grace.
In our time together,
things just fall in place.


101015

CONSTANCY

Over and over
life answers its own quiz,
sometimes with fizzle,
sometimes with fizz—
always conveying
love of what is.


AL FRESCO (for Fay Jean)

Sundown
on the terrace—
a spectacular view,
wine, food, conversation…
all of this, and you.


101014

TROWELING IT ON

My work grows ever more concise
as my time grows shorter.
Once I placed a brick a day;
now, little more than mortar.


101013

NOS IAM VICTORES

We
who are about to die
salute ourselves.


101012

ADS SUBTRACT

I rarely mention politics,
not because it’s fiddlesticks,
sleight-of-hand, or lies-and tricks;
campaign ads just leave me blitzed.


101011

TIME, WELL, SPENT

There always seems
so much to do—
so forgotten
once I’m through.


* * *

Jo'z Julz

* * *


101010

DERE FRENDZ

I ain't twitterd in a wile,
nor writ no poem neether.
Ever now an then (like you)
I jest needz a breether.


101009

RESCUE?

A tablespoon of mouse—
that’s how big it was,
and not yet torn or injured
by tomcat teeth or claws.

I thought it wouldn’t last a day.
It refused to eat,
making every force-feed ploy
a sadly futile feat.

This is the third evening.
Still, mousey lingers on
while Something
toys with each of us
and moves each as its pawn.


101008

eBAY

No “try” applies
when I buy—
but how the hell
shall I sell?


101007

PLAY-PRETTIES

Suddenly,
I’m a fool for jewels
and all awhirl
for mother-of-pearl.


101006

SHOPPING TRIPPED

A blouse in need of buttons,
that’s how it began—
an excursion to a thrift store
to look, to search, to scan;
earrings and a necklace,
purchases unplanned.
Somehow, crafting jewelry
became my heart’s demand.


101005

EXTENDED VACATION

Suit yourself. I don’t care.
I’m in the land of laissez-faire—
I went to visit; I’m still there.

Under my skin? In my hair?
Not one bit. No, I swear.
Suit yourself. I don’t care.


101004

EVERYDAY POETRY

My rule is—
write a poem on the day,
about the day,
or about a thing
that’s everyday...
so it’s okay,
more than perhaps,
to play my way:
to later fill in gaps.

ASIDE: …especially since it can be so hard
and time-consuming to write a poem at all.
Make-up poems can be even more difficult.


101003

TREES THAT PLEASE

Orange-gold
beneath bold blue—
October oaks,
we’ve pined for you.


101002

“DREAM” CHALLENGE

Muse, dear muse,
I dream of you—
even when
instructed to.


101001

HIGH AND DEEP

Each year brings us lows and highs
(greeted, both, by deep-breathed sighs)
and few highs are more highly prized
than deeply blue October skies.


100930

NACRE

naked beauty

iridescent
opalescent

beauty named
an ugly name


100929

GLORY US!

Glory at night.
Glory at morn.
Glory—all glory!—
that we were born.


100928

DAFT FOR CRAFT

Muse,
I make confession.

Out of the blue
(if not from you),
I have a new obsession.


100927

ERRATIC

yesternight:
a restless night

a restless night
again tonight

a restful night
would set this right

so wistful for
a restful night


100926

STUMPED

I wish...
I want...
I might like…
I would choose to…
I could make a difference by…
My ideal life would be like…
I wish.
I want.
I do?


100925

THE ONE EXCEPTION

I’d rather pet a cat
than write a poem;
I’d rather cook a meal
than write a poem;
I’d rather go shopping
or visit a friend
or read a book
or watch buzzards fly
than write a poem—
except, that is, when
I’m writing a poem.


100924

BEACHED

Lately,
the ebb and flow
of the ebb and flow
seems to ebb and flow
just fine without me.


100923

EVEN THE PAST EVOLVES

Was it this way—or that?
What didn’t I know—then or later?
What do I not know now?

The story of my life
changes with each telling.

Now, even when I try to tell it true,
I have to keep my fingers crossed.


* * *

Short and Sweet (Mostly)

* * *


100922

SENSE-LESS

I watch near-blinded as,
from the round of its bucket,
the sun drops molten light
onto evening waves.
I must be near-deaf as well,
hearing no hiss of steam.


100921

MELLOW

I feel peace
(though no push or pull)
and cannot say
whether I’m empty or full.


100920

“THE” ANSWER

It’s all
so simple, really—
so really simple,
I simply forgot.


100919

INCOMING MESSAGE

What fool would be awake
and writing at one a.m.?
Besides myself, I mean.


100918

CONFECTION

Love it all
for its own sake;
the peace of God
is a piece of cake.


100917

AHHHH – HA!

Brilliant!
Utter simplicity.
Why am I happy?
Because I want to be!


100916

MIS-HEARD

You didn’t hear
the thunderstorm?
No, I was asleep.

Dreamin’?
Uh-huh… freezing…
back in Korea…
and other demons, too.


ARRIVAL

Things come e-mail;
things come snail.
Things come true, too,
like that, from you.
(The check was in the mail.)


100915

MOTIVACATION

I know I care;
I care a lot.
I’m just not sure
what about.


100914

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE

Friends, friends, friends—
whatever we’re in for,
we’re in it as friends.


100913

FORCED
REMOVAL

Cat gave
the bed
another douse—
that’s why
she’s now
in the doghouse.


* * *

Waiting, Thinking, Being

* * *


100912

LADY IN WAITING

Life becomes—as I grow old—
not too tame, not too bold;
not too hot, not too cold.
I’m holding onto a life on hold.


100911

FÊTE ACCOMPLI (for Brent and Lizzie)

Groom and bride
became husband and wife.

For family, friends, and community,
it was all a wedding should be—
a celebration of connection,
an affirmation of love and life.


100910

STILL NOT SURE

I’m not sure why.
I’m not sure how.
I got a job, a car, a mate,
a house to clean and decorate.
Meow, meow,
I got a cat.
I did all that.
Now it’s late.
What do I do now?


100909

NIGHTLY NOOSE

The world is dying.
What can I do?
The media says
I’m dying too.


100908

INTUIT INTO IT

Let me give you
some advice:
don’t think once,
much less twice.


100907

PARCHED

What's that sound,
I hope and wonder—
the approach of
distant thunder?


100906

MORNING MISSED

A sad morning.
The cat who always
escorts our
newspaper retrieval at dawn—
the cat who always
comes when called—
did not escort,
did not come.

Always is not
always always—
at least, is no longer,
which explains how
a sad morning gave way
to a happy afternoon.


100905

SAID AT SUNSET

Please teach me.
Teach you what?

What I need to know.
Why do you need to know?

Hmmm.
Please teach me that.


100904

DAYS DAZED

Time to do,
but little action—
lost my way,
my bearings,
traction.


100903

SYSTEMS ERROR

The downturn
will upturn,
the entrepreneur advisor
advises.
Be ready:
millions, billions
can be made
on one well-made trade.

Well,
why is it well
for any
to take so much
from so many?


100902

CHARMING

At one neighbor house
they quit feeding their pets,
leaving two mama cats
and three kittens to survive
or starve on their own.

Another neighbor
took up the slack.
Three of the cats
(two of them, babies)
have no tails—
he calls them minxes.


100901

SLOW PAY

Work,
no work,
work again.

Money,
no money,
money—
but when?



* * *

Yours, Mine, Hours

* * *


100831

LOVE ME, LOVE MY

Books, movies,
restaurants,
car shows, lectures,
favorite haunts.

Yours and mine,
mine and yours—
hours and hours
have made these ours.


LET IT FALL

September,
please
do.

Do not refrain.

Please,
September,
bring us rain.


HIATUS

A change of pace,
a time of grace—
a day with no
“to do” to do.
Except refresh.
Except renew.


100830

HELP! HELP!

“Here I come
to save the day!”

That means
that Mighty Muse
is on the way.


100829

FRISCO FEST

An August Saturday
with a touch of breeze;
a taste of fall.

We walk and walk
without regard to knees.
It’s a car show, after all.


100828

ENOUGH

Here I am.
Stopped.
Empty.
Alone with everything.
Understanding nothing.

Pain, puzzlement,
pleasure, peace—
indistinguishable.

To whom
do I sing
my death song?


100827

A PRINCE
OF A FRIEND (for Mike)

Spirit unbroken,
as body allowed
he ran his life’s course.

Now,
there’s a hole
in the world
in the shape
of a horse.


QUIT

To live:
to die
to death.


100826

RX: R&R

My brain
has lost its head
of steam.

Let it rest.
Let it dream.


“COMPLETE” JOY

Frisky as a kitten,
happy as a pup—
at least on this work item,
I’m at last caught up!


MIDDLE WHITTLE

Life keeps getting harder;
tougher day by day.
Some keep busy working
while others take their pay.


100825

WACKY WHACK

Summer heat got out of whack—
then, like some mad and mythic cat
that arched so high it broke its back,
it lost its power to attack.


100824

THIS TUESDAY

Days are like friends.
You have to know ‘em.
Be attentive; show it.

Here’s a day
that calls for a poem,
if you happen to be a poet.


100823

LIFE TIME

It’s all a gift.

No need or reason
to deserve it.

No way to save it
or reserve it.

No means to keep it
or conserve it.

Just enjoy it
and observe it.


* * *

Rough Seas

* * *


100820

‘TIS! – ‘TISN’T! (for Alan)

Who can see—you or me?
Which is right—day or night?
Which is wrong—short or long?
Who knows true—me or you?


100819

AS A HUMAN

This is my source
of conflict, pain and sorrow:
attachment to opinions
even I will change tomorrow.


100818

NO FRIEND
MORE TRUE

Mate and friend,
you’ve lived with me awhile
and always gone the extra mile.

Life with me can be a trial,
though I don’t mean it to—
to make amends, is there
something I can do?

Yes, you can.
Be you.


100817

THE DEFENSE
NEVER RESTS

You let us down,
they said today.
It hurts so much
what others say.

Sometimes it’s wrong,
sometimes unfair.
Sometimes it’s right;
that’s hard to bear.

It hurts so much
what others say.
I just want
to be okay.


JUST INFORMED

No. Not that!
My heart
went splat.


100816

SELF HEALING

You hurt bad
and don’t know why,
but this will help:
have a good cry.


100815

MAYBE IT IS FUNNY

My nose looks like
a case of rot
with sores that ooze
and will not clot
plus mucous
that I have to blot.
Snot can be
a real hot-shot
at healing sores,
but my snot’s not.


OVERBORED

Do not scout
the deck for me.
I’m lost.
I’m lost.
I’m lost at sea.

[ASIDE: Actually, less bored than challenged,
but still lost.]


100814

WANT ADS

CDL Driver.
No.
Tax Preparer.
No.
Dental Assistant.
No.
Message Therapist.
I’m on it!


100813

ASYLUM

A thought escaped
as I walked the hall:
“I love her.
God, I love her!
I love them all.”


100813

WITH LOVE AND GRATITUDE

If penned up as a refugee,
I would have the sky;
if dungeon-locked,
a place to lie.

If the bounty I’ve been handed
were stripped off like a glove.
I would still have memory.
I would still have love.


FLAW IN MY CRAW

My work is good
(far from disaster).
If only I could
master faster.


SNAGGED

Next time you’re with your yogi,
rabbi, priest, or shrink,
ask him for me, will you,
how we’re supposed to think.

Do we stalk each nascent thought
like a hypochondriac a cough?
Do we wring the meaning out
or shut the darned thing off?


* * *

Pressure, Pleasure, Pain

* * *


SACRED VEHICLE

“Thou shalt not tempt
the Lord, thy God.”

I used to think that meant
don’t beg for Aladdin’s cave,
don't ask that a dead stick
erupt in rose blossoms.

Now I think it means
take care of your body;
you don’t get a replacement
(at least not the same
make and model).


CELESTIAL SODA POP

(was there ever a tune so aptly named?)

(it’s worth a lifetime to hear it)

(wordless ... and also beyond words

(yet the title says it all)

(wrong, the music does)

(hush, everyone… encore!)


ASIDE: When the subject of personal theme songs
came up this week, I was sure mine was Bob Seeger's
about "I'm older now but still runinn' against the wind."
Then I remembered Celestial Soda Pop.


PREMATURELY
INDUCED

Delivery
can go easy
some say—
some, with experience.
(Breathe. Just breathe.)

I am due
to deliver…
or be delivered.
(I’d gladly gestate
on those phrases awhile.)

Pressure
is coming to bear.
(More gestation.)
I have no epidural.


MANAGEMENTAL

I have modes of attention:

One: utter focus.
Two: blocked.
Three: flit-flit-flit.
Four: forget-forget-forget.

When left to my own agenda,
I manage well.
When deferring to another’s,
I manage. Well…


I DARE NOT LAUGH

I have a cold sore rimming my right nostril.
This is August, so call it a heat sore.
Every time I smile, it cracks and weeps and enlarges.
I really think it’s impetigo,
which pleases me by association with babies.
It looks gross, like a squash-bug sized booger,
which pleases me by association with young boys
who know how to revel in grossness.
It is spreading to my upper lip
and I envision wearing a mustache to disguise it,
which pleases me by association with Groucho Marx
and Charlie Chaplin and all my hero comedians.
Now, if it were only funny.


GOOBER

I forgot.
Natural peanut butter
doesn’t stick just to
the roof of my mouth;
it sticks to my throat.


GOBBLEDY SPOOKED

The more
I say things
(especially, the more I exhort),
the more it all sounds like
gobbledygook,
or whatever gobbledygook word
they’re using these days.


INTERNALIZING

I didn’t notice
that the strawberry
in my left hand
was the size
of the heart
of a red-tailed hawk
until I made
a first slice
into its ventrical.
I should have
swallowed it whole.


100811

SHOWER

Ahhhh.
Water on,
balanced cold to hot.
How must it seem
for one,
used most of his life
to be clean,
to not?


INCLUDE HIM IN

Any man
who can take it in stride
when a coworker
incorrectly asks to take a shortcut
by riding his skirttails
is definitely welcome
at our impromptu
gal’s potluck.

Salad, Bill?
A few strawberries?


TOLL

I can’t decide
if this is funny—

When people say,
“I would pay
to do this,”
I think they
just mean money.


CRAZY FOR YOU (for Ethan)

We met, we talked,
we made a pact—
I and you—and you
became my school.

For you, for you,
I would act the fool—
and not even have to act.


MISSION FROM GOD

My daily duty and obsession
is like that “Blues Brothers” thing.
Everything else is
optional or expendable.


100810

HOME, HOME,
HOME, HOME, HOME

refuge
comfort
sanctified zone

launchpad
anchor
heart-and-hearth stone

floors
walls
roof or dome

grace
delight
us
our own


EMPLOYMENT
AGENCY

Exterminator wanted?
I’m here to apply
for the poisition.

Etiquette coach wanted?
I’m here to apply
for the poisition.

[ASIDE: From a typo in a job ad.]


100809

THE CORE

More
seek to seek it
(to explore)
than know it.
Wander more.
Quest
is at the core:
the province
of the poet.
Ponder.


COME AS YOU COME

Would I stuff you in a box
and tie you up with string?
Would I cram you in a mold
or pin your dainty wings?

Would I force you to behave
like a robot or a slave,
or cast you as a victim
while I played the roguish knave?

Would I shove you on the stage
and force you to compete?
Would I make you toe the line?
Would I bind your precious feet?


ASIDE: As I thought of the effrontery of trying to force
a poetic inspiration into a predetermined line-and-meter form,
this one came to me easily and just about complete. It does
not strictly toe the line.


SPECULATION

My body will go on
as long as it does
and I really don’t think
it will mind when it dies.
As for my mind,
it doesn’t mind now.


ABOUT THAT REQUEST…

Saying now,
“Can’t you give me
a few more hours
in this day?”

. . .will that be
much different than
saying, later,
“Can’t you give me
a few more hours
in this life?”


100808

DEAR DIVINE POET,

Given the late hour
and long day,
which of these
would you do:
go to bed and sleep
or edit poems
from earlier scribbles?

Oh, You are so wise!
But that is why
You are You
and I am …not.


FOLLOWING THE CALL

With the dark
that leaves at dawn,
swiftly, corporeally,
he is gone.

All too soon
will come the day
when corporeally only,
he will stay.


WOMAN OF A CERTAIN AGE

People died today.
I wasn’t one of them.
Am not. Yet.
Not quite yet.
But there are intimations:
mortality tables,
losses, lapses.

People died today.
Most, I think, tried not to.
But I can’t be certain.
I wasn’t one of them.


WHAT I’M ABOUT

One: oneness.
Two: diversity.
Three: gratitude.
Oh, forgot poetry!


ENTERPRISE

Thank you kindly,
Captain Kirk,
but my reward
is my work.


100807

OMNIA FUGIT

“Sic transit gloria mundi.”
Need translation? I’m equipped—
“Certain grasps must be ungripped.”

Un exemplum:
My fresh manicure is chipped.


LIFE LONG

Time for play
is playing for time:
being ex-tension
creates extension.


RIGHT LIVELIHOOD

I ask, am told,
seem shy, am bold.
And what I have
outvalues gold.


DOUBLING UP

My life’s lopsided.
I like it that way.
I overlap
my work and play.


SMALL COMFORT

When I was little,
I didn’t know what to say
to old ladies either.


FASCINATING

Poems come easier now,
I guess because…
everything
is an opening
into something
fascinating.


CACTUS FLOWER

You asked.
I tell.

To dance my dance
and sing my song
means...
love that well
which must be left
ere long.


100806

WAGON MAKER

I knew a man,
challenged
in fundamental ways,
who stumbled through
his crazy maze
of hazy days
in strangely able ways.


DIVERSITY
IDENTITY

Dearest Sir,
Dearest Ma’am,

Bonnet, helmet,
cap or tam—
how can I
pick a hat style
if I don’t know
who I am?

[ASIDE: Did a diversity exercise that involved
expressing individuality through hat choices.]


MAKES NO SENSE

When things don’t flow
or do your bidding,
you gotta know:
“Life is what happens while
you’re making other plans.”

Oh, is that so:
what you “just know”?
You gotta be kidding!
Who has time for making plans?


WIN! WIN! WIN! —
NOTHING ELSE LIKE IT

Cheerleaders by the dozens,
swirling and twirling about
Then the mascot Razorback;
bristles and tusks and snout.

Roaring crowds
scream and shout
calling for a win, a rout.

Powers that be, have empathy.
Please be Soooie generous.

[ASIDE: I overheard someone enthuse today
about the thrill of attending her first Razorback games.]


BARE, RUINED, MIRED

That time of mind
thou mayst in me behold
when mellow thoughts
are none, or few, or old.


POME RITING

let them come
let them come
let them come
just
let them come


APPARITION

gracefulest mama
delicatest fawn

stilty legs,
swishy tails

lithely, quickly
gone


TOP OF MOUNTAIN?
BOTTOM OF WELL?

We all may ask
where ideas come from,
but none of us can tell.


100805

SHORT
POME

Most times
my thoughts
are short.

This time
I’m short
of thoughts.


CANTABILE

Lifelong, I pondered,
“For what music am I meant?”
then learned, with wonder,
“I am my own instrument.”


100804

THREE HOURS SLEEP

The first half of the night,
I scanned the house
for a lost document, but my
searching turned up nothing.

The second half of the night,
I scanned my mind
for that same lost document,
but memory turned up nothing.

Oh, the document turned up
eventually:
when I turned up the lid
of the scanner.


* * *

Work and Play

* * *

100803

CAST

Some of us get the glory.
Some of us do not.
A starring role,
for some of us,
is to advance the plot.


100802

BRAINPOWERLESS

My brain froze up,
and I would not wait
till it thawed out;
so my brain burned up
and I have to wait—
‘cause it’s thought-out.


100801

BACKLOG
UNCLOGGED

Tackled chores
sun to sun.
Tired and proud.
Taxes done.


100731

OPTICAL
DELUSION

I bought a book
on mandalas
and now I sit and stare
with empty mind
at images
I’m not quite sure
are there.


100730

SOMETHING
TO BE DONE

Does something
need a headline or a title?
Here I am. I can! I can!

Does someone
need a slogan or a logo?
Here I be. Let me! Let me!


100729

REPURPOSING

Life and death. Night and day.
Beauty when not seen that way.
Sad-faced clowns and those that smile.
My life’s purpose: reconcile.

(Good grief, good gall, good glory!
My checkbook, if you took a look,
would tell another story.)


100728

PREMONITION

If I should die before I wake
or before I see you again,
I love and loved you, each and all—
my neighbors, friends, and kin.


MORTAL

…because
nothing good
lasts forever.


100727

PEARLS BE FOR SWINE

1
When writers whine,
“me, my, mine,” I scoff.
These gems, so fine,
on which we dine, all come
from the same trough.

2
Are pigs greedy?
No, indeedy!
Pigs would plead
they’re merely needy.

3
Here’s a thought and it’s a dilly—
if a hog became a lily,
that would be so not-so-silly!
(Lily-of-the-field-type lily:
that’s the one I meant. Yes, really.)


WHY WORK?

Work can be an ogre.
Work can be a friend.
I most like the friendly part:
when it meets its end.


EEEEEE!

EOD
EOM
EOY
EOL


FLIP SIDE

Everything ends.
Everyone dies.
Thinking on this,
I’ve become wise.

Death is just life
in other guise.
Nothing can end.
Nobody dies.

How do I know?
I have my spies.


100726

STRAY THOUGHT

Why is it called
mind
when it doesn’t?


100725

POSITIVELY NOT

I kept saying yes
‘cause I wanted to learn.
“Yes, oh yes!”

But what do you think
I eventually learned?
Come on, guess!

I learned how to yearn
to learn to say yes
far, far less!


WORK CAPACITY

For those with experience,
I have a query.
How far does “I love it!”
(applied to work) carry?

Please hurry an answer;
I need to know—
to schedule a time
to “unstring the bow.”


100724

PITHY UNDER PRESSURE

Some write who know. Others, for show.
Some merely bluster and blow.
All may, or may not, have deadlines.

My heroes, though?
Anonymous souls
who flow with the “Go!”
writing subtly ingenious headlines.


100723

YO, YOU!

Ya, you’re the one
I’m talkin’ to.
Who d’ya think—
a kangaroo?


100722

SPEAKING FOR MYSELF

There’s a certain truth
only experience brings:
that inception of fear
is conception of things.


100721

CHALLENGE

It will be hard.
It can be fun.
Best of all,
It will be done.


100720

CONTEMPLATIVE

My ideal, my sublime—
and, yes, I would tend
to my duties and oughts—
is a simple life
with plenty of time
to think my own thoughts.


100719

ROUENS FOR A PEKIN

From home to Gentry to Elkins to home:
one and a fifth hundred miles.
The Rouens are young but large
and don’t yet have the plumage that
will distinguish them as male or female.
Unlike Boodie, they are not pond-bound
and have already made an expedition
up the road, over the hill,
to and around the people house.
Plans are underway for a duck house.


100718

TAKING MULTI-TASKING TO TASK

“Heightened freneticism,”
an author wrote, to say e-communication
doesn’t float his boat—or get his vote—
when mis-prioritized or mis-paced.

I quote:
“Try kissing more and tweeting less.”
More thinking. And more quietness.


100717

WINGING IT

Chores get done, deflected,
or rejected.
Chores get done
and more gets done,
but not what was expected.


100716

SELF-STYMIED

No matter how massive,
longstanding or dense,
there’s always a way
to breach your own fence.


100715

THINGDOM

Is ego the thing
that pines to excel
and weeps
when it doesn’t
measure up?

Is ego the thing
that panics and sulks
after inventing
its own exclusion?

Well, thing, I embrace you.
Let me offer comfort and
help you work this out;
this thing.


100714

ENTRUSTED

Why now?
Because there is
no other when.

Why me?
Because there is
no other who.


* * *

Life, Death, Work, Play—the Usual

* * *

100713

REGRET

Had I but been wilder—
more daring and uncouth—
I’d not now be lamenting
my sadly mis-saved youth.


100712

DROWNPOUR

More! More! Louder!
That’s what this rain’s about.
It may not drown the frogs,
but sure can drown them out.


100711

SO NOT SO!

In my error or my pride,
I had come to think
ideas would be supplied
if I supplied the ink.


100710

MAY I BE
EXCUSED?

“My heart and loves
are mostly gone.
I’ve lived too long,”
she said. “Too long.”


100709

HORS D’OEUVRES
SAMPLER

It’s some comfort,
but not wholly—
that others mistake
wasabi for guacamole.


HE, SHE, SYNCHRONY (for Jeremy and Annie)

“With music and with flair,
you set me a fine snare—
through your daring drum, pet.”

“With music and with care,
you also set a snare—
through your blaring trumpet.”

From trumpet and snare drum—
a one and a one—this harmonious
pair, this duo, has come.


100708

EATING SMART

One diced orange,
a handful of blueberries,
three-quarters of a cup of soy milk,
and a whisk in the blender—
that smoothie began as a foamy,
then curdled to a lumpy.
Now it resembles brain matter.


100707

LEFTOVERS

Mid-July fireworks
in the neighborhood.

How many interpretations to posit?
How many moods to ascribe?

(The one who asks
still has long ago sparklers,
un-unwrapped.)


100706

POISED

Cat on lap,
pad on knee,
pencil in hand,
mind gone free—
all in balance,
exquisitely.


100705

BREAK

I love my work,
but don’t want to do it—
not right now, at least.

I want to do nothing,
lots of nothing—
nothing at all.
Just nothing.


100704

STILL SLEEPING ON IT

This five-day holiday weekend
included travel, business, friends,
and—most needed of all—sleep.
However,
I have not yet slept enough
to prepare for resumption
of whatever first created
this need of sleeping.


100703

DEADLY DULL

I don’t want to die
without knowing.

Most things
I learn how to do
just about the time
I’m done doing them.

What if
how to live life
is an exception
and I daily grow
more ignorant
of what I most
want to know?

That would be sad,
wouldn't it?


100702

IDIO-VERSE

The way I taste,
touch, smell, and see
(presby- and myopically)—
this universe will die with me.


100701

ANSWER ME THIS

Loss of sight and strength and flair.
Old age symptoms everywhere.

Weight and hair subtractions, gains.
(But what's ugly still remains.)

Absent-minded. Sleepless nights.
Hard of hearing. Other plights.

Living on less than living wage.
How do people survive old age?!


100630

CARRIED AWAY

However we are moved
(on lands that walk us,
airs that float us,
waters that boat us),
there’s always something
splendid to notice.


100629

At the mouth of the creek
at the bottom of our hill,
what but beavers
would have stripped
the bases of the trees?
Only the crepe myrtle there
may survive their bite,
already being nearly barkless.


100628

SERVICE

Nature is the friend
who, while you
chatter and flit,
brews the tea
and fills your cup.


100627

UNCOMPANIONABLE
COMPANION

Like a shadow
that never disappears
unless engulfed
by a larger one—
who is this person
constantly interfering
with my heaven—
this entity, this other me?


100626

LET IT STARVE

No! No!
Not another
blank piece of paper—
not another mouth to feed!
I don’t care if it is pink
or that the pencil is fuchsia.
I’m tapped out.
I have nothing to give.
Let it starve.

Oh, okay.
Tell you what—
I’ll trade this crumb,
if you want it,
for equal time:
for a manicure.
Fuchsia.


* * *

Stress, Distress, De-stress

* * *

100625

CAT SPAT

And then there was the day
the neighborhood white stray
chased Emma on the deck.
She fought and squealed like heck
as I came running.

The stray took off, but what a scare!
Gray-fluff fur was everywhere,
but not one sign of blood;
that, at least, was good.

By luck or cunning,
Emma’d located a nook
from which to fight. I took
her in my arms and nearly wept;
she had started purring. Then she slept,
and then went back outside—
my blind battler, and my pride.


100624

AFTERNOON AFTER

To bed at four.
Awake at ten
to write this pome
then sleep again.


100623

SKYLIGHT

Today at dawn
I shut the blinds,
then was surprised
to wake and find
the room so bright;
I’d been sleeping
in the light.


NOT ALARMED

Except for skylight,
I would still
be sleeping.


WRITING IT OUT

Perplexed.
Panicked.
Inadequate.

Whatever my biology,
whatever my upbringing,
whatever my adaptations,
hurry reverts me
to juvenile feelings:

Not good enough.
Don’t know enough.
Don’t know enough
to get it right,
or, even, just to get it.
Can’t think.
Can’t think.
Can’t think.
Can’t remember
enough or fast enough.
And didn’t write it down.

What is the proper sacrifice
to hurry? In the work of writing,
if my strengths are my weakness,
do I become stronger by weakening?

Where is the center,
the balance point?
How much can balance?
What is the point?


100622

UNFAMILIAR VOICES

Which birds were those,
the first of dawn,
serenading his departure?


100621

WAKE UP, WAKE UP!

What is this—
an exercise in depletion,
or simple self-deception?
—working ‘round the clock
designing training courses
on how to manage time
and keep a life in balance.


* * *

Work, Play, Life

* * *

100620

JOB DESCRIPTION

What do they ask for
versus what do they mean
(they, meaning spouses
or would-be managers)?

There is more than a sinkful
of difference, for example,
between “Do the dishes”
and “Clean the kitchen,”
between “Clean the kitchen
and “Keep the kitchen clean.”

[ASIDE: Actually, this derives from a
presentation on diversity I once made at
a college. First I talked with women alone,
then with men, then with both together.
I came away with appreciation that people
communicate as well as they do, given the difficulties.
Each group, though, gave the identical response
to the question, “What do you most wish
your significant other understood about you?”
The answer: “How hard I work for their benefit."]


100619

OR-
ISON

Each moon
so fair.
Each sun.

One life
so rare,
so blessed
beyond
compar—
ison.


100618

REMEMBRANCE

Not for me a ring or locket.
Poem pieces in my pocket.


100617

OPUS

Too too many, don’t you think?
Too profuse with pen and ink.


SNEEZIES

She (in one room): Achoo!
He (in another): ‘Zatchoo?


100616

COURSE OF LIFE

Harm, charm, amusement,
glory, turmoil, strife.

Life is the teacher,
the master teacher,
teaching each creature
the way to master life.


100615

ANYTHING THAT WAKENS

Anything
that wakens us to now—
a sonic boom, an itch, a cow,
a door or body creaking—
that’s God speaking
(a.k.a., the Tao).


100614

REAL DEAL

I’ve pinched my arm
black and blue
making sure
my dream-job’s true.


100613

FORTUNE TELLERS

More of these
than blades of grass:
dewdrop globes, not of glass—
yet, crystal balls
(prismatic, bright)—
lucid forecasts of delight.


SHAPE

Touted in today’s paper
(in a sales flyer):
“Shaped Rubber Bands”—
primary-color squiggles
outlining animal shapes
(panther, dolphin, bear,
seahorse, butterfly, gator).

One mystery shape
goes undeciphered:
big-headed frog? tree in pot?
hammerhead anemone?

This optical-illusion puzzle
is a metaphor for external reality,
including the proposition
that it may not be external.
Every now and then
an insight falls into place—
but until you see it, you don’t see it.


100612

WRITER

Unlike some in the
work-world mob,
you won't hear me
moan or sob—
I love my job!
I love my job!


100611

THE TEACHER APPEARS

This job,
beyond the work itself,
has one benefit after another,
and the best so far
is one not even contemplated
at the outset—a good editor.


100610

LOVE’S GRACE

Life’s a school that each attends.
The work is hard; to make amends,
love graces us with friends.
Friends!
In unexpected forms and places.


100609

TAX RELIEF

After taxes—
ataraxis.


100608

QUITTER

First to go when I get busy
is exercise. Then sleep.
Then any semblance
of healthful eating.
The final mark of crisis
is when I stop writing
these daily po


100607

SAY OF HER

March two, two thousand two
to today when she is dead
(we know, we took her vitals)
she wrote a few good pomes
but was proudest of her titles.


TURNABOUT

Perhaps I wasn't
the world's best sleuth,
searching all those years
for truth.

No matter. I see—
@Truth is following me


[ASIDE: What a Twitter handle!]


100606

BLISSFIT

My idea
of bliss
is this:
overhearing
people
laughing.


* * *

Life, with Animals

* * *

100605

TIME OUT, ALREADY!

Foo, foo, foo! Foo and fudge!
Things go badly when we judge.
He’ll suggest, plead or nudge.
She’s entrenched; she won’t budge.
She is nursing some old grudge.

[ASIDE: Someone discussing WWI and WWII
mentioned “old grudges” (which take place
at many levels).]


100604

DUCK CALLS

“He’s a she,”
my brother announced.
So Buddy became Bootie—
appropriate for a duck’s physique,
we thought.
Quattro, on the other hand (or wing),
was so called for failure to flock
with the triplets, unnamed.
Now he’s part of a duo.
That’s how fairy tales end these days.


SOGGY SAGA

That title sounds trite.
The situation is not.
Three lives were lost overnight.

I feel responsible,
though no one is certain of the cause—
the stormy night?
snapping turtle or other predator?
waterlogging?
I was warned about waterlogging.

Today’s report from the pond
is that Bootie and Quattro
(duck and duckling)
spent the entire afternoon side by side,
making exploratory excursions on the pond.

If one duckling survived, why not four?

About this mystery,
investigations reveal nothing,
the only evidence being non-evidence.
The verdict, however, is clear:
humans are not in charge,
nor should they be.


WRITE NOW

Well,
here’s a chance
to go to bed early,
something I fancy
clearly and surely.

But,
there’s a spot
still blank on the page
and a poetic urge
that must be assuaged.


100603

BACK ON THE WAGON

The re-beginning
is the most important
part of the work.


INTERVENTION

When cats claw
or dogs are yappy,
when you’re feeling
sad or sappy—
with a lilt,
sing, “I feel crappy!”
Silliness induces happy.


100602

PEKINS: $4

Practically speaking,
our duck was an orphan,
and that would not do—
so nothing would do
but to purchase four
more ducks via Craigslist.

The price was a clue
to their size, but we were
clueless going in.

Turned out,
they were just old enough
for swimming, so we
turned them out at the pond.

Practically speaking,
our orphan duck became
an unexpectant mama.
Let’s see how she does.


100601

SAW DUST

That bumble-
sized bee
boring holes
in our home’s
fascia boards?
That would be
a wood bee.

[ASIDE: Also known as a carpenter bee.]


FRUIT
ENROUTE

Went out
walking
today,
thoughtless,
like a
sleepwalker.

Returned,
empty-handed,
but with a
mulberry
aftertaste.


SKIN THAT ONE, PILGRIM,
AND I’LL GITCHA ANOTHER

Bless me,
but it’s been a while,
this turn at life—
each turn of dial,
each turn of stile,
each trip down aisle,
each phase, each style.

Mercy,
but it’s been a while!

[ASIDE: A sometimes yearning for
a fresh start or reset button.]


100531

SINGLE WHITE FEMALE

Neighbors got involved.
Long story short:
duck is now ensconced
on my brother’s farm and pond.
Efforts are underway
to secure suitable companionship.


DOUBLE TROUBLE

Mattress pad, comforter (placed
underneath the sheets in summer),
fitted sheet, upper sheet, bedspread
(actually, a heavy decorative sheet)—
all of these were run through the laundry
twice today.

A certain feline someone
has developed a bad habit.
Before we named her Emma,
she was called Sweet Trouble.


* * *

Faith, Fascination, Fun

* * *

100530

FAITH IN THE OUTCOME

Duck, the second of the pair,
was quacking mid-road
near the body of its mate.

It did not retreat when I approached
to remove the other’s body
or even when vehicles whisked by.
When I left, it followed me—
by then, we were both quacking.

The pavement was hot,
so I walked us toward a patch
of shade and grass.
There I sat, cross-legged,
while duck nibbled weeds,
and sampled me with its bill—
taking great interest in shoes
and rings—till it eventually
settled on the grass for a nap.

I considered our options.

No point in delaying.
I rose and quickly walked away,
trusting in nature and instinct
to make the proper resolution,
not daring to look back—
until, of course, I did.

Duck was quacking mid-road.


100529

EVERYTHING

Wow.


UNIVERSALL

Each. All.
Every. One.

Within, without
and under the sun—
every doing
is a being-done.


100528

PREP TALK

“Work. Work out.”
That’s my code.
Time to go; gotta carry my load.
Here’s where the rubber
meets the road.

Can’t stay here
like a big fat toad.
Gotta get my butt on the road.
Here’s where the blubber
meets the road!


UMBRELLA (for Lisa)

Today was only foggy—
but better safe than soggy!


BUSHED

Feeling unergetic today.

(That’s a real word;
I’m too tired to make one up.)


100527

TO BELIEVE, BELIEVE

The story
of the mustard seed
is somehow mustard-treed.

Would you believe—
a mustard tree?
Never seen one!
Can it be?

There is one thing
I believe:
it takes faith,
that mustard-seed creed.


BE-LOVE-ED

The rising of the land.
The sinking of the sea.
The epoch of each creature;
its brief ascendancy.

Gaia, what have I to offer
but rough humanity?
As long as you are loved,
it needn’t be by me.


SEEK AND BE FOUND

What is it that you seek?
...To end, begin.
You are made in likeness.
...Look within.
You are the truth you speak.
...You are the answer you seek.


NOT YOUR KEEPER

Pardon me,
dear sir, dear ma’am—
do you take me for a fool
fool enough to give a damn?


LITTLE BO PEEP
AND SHEPHERD BOY

“Your debt is due,
but I’ll steer clear
of lambs and rams.
May I take a ewe?”

“Hardly, ma’am—
that will not do!
Frankly, my dear,
I don’t give a dam.”


CANADIANS

Geese ahead, and flying low.
I have yet to see them, though;
fog is rising from the lake.

I stand alert at water’s edge,
as the fog turns more opaque,
to wait the coming of the wedge.

No sooner do the geese appear
than their wedge must split or veer.

With whoosh of wings,
they rise instead,
passing barely overhead,
startled at the sight of me
flapping arms in mimicry.


[ASIDE: I took liberties with the truth.
The geese saw me from a greater distance;
their wedge was already broken, and it passed
on either side of me, but barely overhead.
The wing-whoosh sound was impressive.
Of course, the most prominent aspect of the
fly-by was the sound of their honking; I hope
you supplied it.]


100526

AINA NANI

If age is just a state of mind,
one I can embrace,
let mine be Hawaii
or some equal state of grace.


CAREER

If nursery rhymes don’t warp you
toward life as a poet,
cartoons might, to your sorrow.

I trace my happy affliction to
Popeye’s cartoon segment,
"Hair today. Goon tomorrow."


HI SIGN

There’s nothing
regarding a poem
that you ought to do.

Each one's just a pointer
to the poet inside of you.


OBSESSION

First you pursue.
Then it does you.


FAME? ACCLAIM?

Thank you, no,
I’m not quite ready
for adventure
half so heady.


100525

POEM PLACE

A patch of white
serene as snow
beckons, teases
as it pleases—
and it pleases
me to know
a patch of white
serene as snow.


SCRAM!

Go away—
go find yourself
some other prey.

Go away—
or I’ll get rough;
you’re not so tough.

Go away—
you’ve scavenged
on me long enough!


A DASH MIGHT DO

May I use
a comma, momma?
I hate to be behol’en,
even to a semicolon.


BUMFUZZLED

If there’s a school
for being old,
in it I’m a baby
looking for a nanny:
a mixed-up fool—
feeling like a girl,
acting like a lady,
looking like a granny.


I DIDN’T WANT ANY PART OF IT

You don’t want to know.

There on the page where I smashed it
are tick juices—dried, of course—
some body parts, and a strand of cat hair.
The smash took the shape of a flea.
(I said you didn’t want to know.)

Now you know.
How would you have handled it?


WHAT?

I find what I see.

What do I see?
What I’m looking for.

What am I looking for?
What I see—
familiar things and surprises.

What else is there?


END OF
HOSTILITIES

Surely
there will
come a day
when we can meet
as mates and play.


TRIBUTE

As from this life
I do depart,
I salute
my faithful heart.


INVENTORY
OF A HALF-HOUR

striped mushroom parasols

woodpecker riddling a power pole
(just keeping in practice?)

first Cherokee rose of spring

rock? dead squirrel? shoe

deformed Queen Anne’s lace
really another type of flower

bulldozer parked in woods

hidden meadow

shoe mate


RALLY TALLY

Just as the task force
was about to collapse
from the exhaustion of
negotiating difficult topics
and diverse opinions,
it narrowly averted
both delusion and demise:
it came to its consensus.


DEAL

I think of life as a poker game
(people, places and things—
especially ideas and insights—
these are the cards).
I’m always trading up.


[UNTITLED]

Even when it rains,
you worry over ducks and frogs,
not to mention lakes, seas, bogs.

[Twitter challenge issued by @MyWordWizard:
flesh out the opening “Even when it rains, you. . .”]


SKIES CLEARING

Kokopeli serenading a cactus;
two white elephants
with trunks entwined;
a big-lipped moose
riding a hippopotamus—
yippee-i-o!
Also—beyond the far hills,
mountains of snowcapped rubble.
And all I had to do was look up.


100524

YOUR PROBLEM

Just because you
contributed to it
doesn’t mean you
can’t ask for help.


JOURNAL

Reading back,
my life appears to be made up
of intertwined recurrent themes—
various animals appearing
or demising near roadways;
reactions to solar, lunar
and household events;
weather;
existential, psychospiritual
and literary musings;
discovery, frustration and fun.
Not bad.


* * *

Alien Seditions

* * *


100523

THE POSSIBLE DREAM

Imagination or reality
(what I’m enamored of)?

How everything—
everything!—
only offers love.


SPRING THRILL

Window open.
Day borning.
Warm under covers
on a cool morning.


100522

NO RETREAT

Enlightenment rebirths us—
each insight, a debut;
each last exhale of old life,
the first inhale of new.


100521

DIFFERENT DATE,
DIFFERENT FATE

Evicted by rain,
worms mounted the roadbed
yesterday
and headed north—
or simply traveled in tandem
away from where they’d been.

I ferried them across.

Today’s refugees
are being escorted by a crow
to a different destination.


[TIDBIT]

Yesterday,
hawk in small tree.
Today, two hawks.


100521

COUNT ME IN

Ten million people are writing
(ten million people or more),
all wanting your attention
(ten-million-one or more).


ABOUT MY CAT

To my touch,
she was at first resistant,
so I took care—
was gentle and persistent.
Now she comes to my caress;
in fact, she is insistent.


CHORES

There’s nothing like
having something to do
to make you want to do
something else.


DEATH’S DEMEANOR

Will it be—
a long surmise?
a quick surprise?

or, as I suspect—
some grand disguise?


CLOWN

I thank God
for sight and smell,
and sound,
and sense—

but, most of all,
for irreverence.


UNFIT FOR SERVICE

Would a poet laureate
write about snot,
or boogers or cooties?
I think not!

Well, cross that off
my list of ambitions—
I have too many alien seditions.


THE WAY OF PLAY

My work
is as a poet
and is,
as it should be,
a work
to work aversive—
a work of truancy.


TAUNTRESS

My muse
is showing off tonight,
strutting her strange stuff—
daring, daring, daring me
to say, enough, enough!


100520

I AM GOING TO THE ZOO (for Lauren)

What I say is truly true:
I have nothing better to do.
I am going to the zoo.
To the zoo — Woo hoo! Woo hoo!!!


100519

ANTS IN YOUR PANTS

Spring rains
have driven ants inside
seeking places to abide.

They’re made to move—
and don’t move slowly.
They’ll hop a toe and take a ride,
then mountaineer a person’s hide.

The lowly ant
is not so lowly!


100518

WRESTLING

Pain has taken a
toe-hold on my body—
well,
a thumb-lock.


100517

THE BETTER PART

Martha—Mary
(prosaic—poetic, earthy—airy).

One weighted with work,
when work would wait.

One who chose a buoyant fate.


100516

BRITISH ACCENT

My partner's in the kitchen
making a pot of tea.

I'd applauded his suggestion:
"taking a spot of tea."


* * *

Confetti

* * *


100515

WRITER
WORKSHOP

Rain
stops
(now and then)
its patter;
birds,
their chirping;
writers, too,
their chirping pens.


ROLE WITH
THE PUNCHES

I am the writer,
the recorder,
the observer.
Clout? I doubt.

She—let it be—
is the teacher.


PEONIES (for Carrie)

Why peonies?

Why today
white ruffled peonies—

in her email,

in our remembrances
of kleenex flowers
on bobbie-pin stems,

in those two faded flowers on display
at that bookstore counter,

in the first poem encountered now
in Mary Oliver’s book?


[ASIDE: Inspired by a Twitter comment.]


BACK-TO-BARK

Every day is an experiment:
a reaching out
to whatever is reaching back.

This day’s experiment:
place my back to the bark of a tree,
spine to spine,
as close as we can get
and be.


MEDIUM, MESSAGE

Paper is a pleasure
to brush against,
to stroke,
to rub between fingers
until it pop-pop-pops.


CONFETTI

the look of wonder
on an eighty-year-old face

my fat pen
in use again

when it’s given right, let it be

that black line of cloud,
so un-menacing
in retreat


[ASIDE: Leftover bits from writing exercises]


100514

LEARN ME

sights and wonders
places to go

tell me
teach me
take me—
share and show

take me
tell me
teach me—
I so want to know


100513

SCAREDY

I love it
(find it quite exciting)
when lightning blast
and thunder crash
put every cat in hiding.


100512

TRANSIENTS

Thoughts—
catch, then hold them?
No net is that fine.

Thoughts are not me—
are not even mine.


100511

HOW THESE THINGS WORK

It wasn’t even a job offer,
just a statement of pay parameters
and notice of further applicant scrutiny.

I was the applicant.

The pay was low, the commute
and hours long, and the work—well,
unenchanting to someone else
I knew, who knew.

I’d been spoiled.
Two months earlier, I had interviewed
with the company for the job—
the one I really wanted.
But nothing had come of that.

I contrasted the two scenarios to my husband,
a multi-tasker who continued browsing the web,
scanning emails, and checking phone messages
as I spoke. Then he turned to me with a smirk.

“What?” I asked, irritated.

“You need to know how these thing work,”
he coached, handing me the phone.
“Call for you. It’s the company.”


THE MAGICAL KINGDOM

Serendipity.
Wish fulfillment.
Placebos.
Self-fulfilling prophecies.
Superstitions.
Delusions of power.

Beware of magical thinking,
children, artists, and
dreamers are cautioned.

But think about it:
isn’t all thinking magical?


OPTIONAL

Take
an ordinary
sentence;
break it into bits;
run it
down the page
and, voilà!
a poem
(title optional).


100510

SUN STROKE OF LUCK

After an afternoon sunbath,
I moved to a set of worn
west-facing wooden steps and
continued warming myself there.

Close by,
yellow-headed
dandelions bloomed

The nearest caught my attention.
While I stared, completely absorbed,
background greenery
went glittery, then monochrome
(black, white, silver, gray)
as the blossom intensified
its yellow—like a radiant sun
against a lucent nighttime sky.

How did I chance
to witness that?


* * *

Mother's Day & Oddities

* * *


100509

WHAT’S IN A NAME (for Mary Lee)

Jo is her middle name
and she came to prefer it.

Jo,
chosen by her mother,
when her mother was a girl.

Jo ,
for dear one, beloved,
“John Anderson, my Jo”.

Jo,
the mother-gift of mother-love
to an entire family,
for each person knows, “You are
my dear one, my beloved, my Jo.”

[ASIDE: Mother's Day poem derived from a self-obituary
writing exercise conducted this week by Karen Zacharias,
author of "Will Jesus Buy Me A Double-Wide?:
Cause I Need More Room for My Plasma TV"]


100508

SELF, NON-SELF

One a horse, ranging wide.
One a rider, along for the ride.

Each awake to own.
Each asleep to other.

One will never get out.
One, though it may have tried,
will never get inside.


100507

SHEEPISH

The sheep were sheep.
Some would feed,
some would sleep,
and some would sleep
very deep... counting sheep.

[ASIDE: Wisdom House challenge on Twitter:
Create a work beginning with the words,
“The sheep were… “]


ALARM

The sheep were screaming,
but no one could hear.

The wind was calm.
The day was clear.
The shepherd was absent;
at least, couldn't hear.

The sheep were screaming,
but no one could hear—
no one, that is,
except what drew near.

[ASIDE: Wisdom House challenge on Facebook:
Create a work beginning with the words,
“The sheep were screaming… “ Facebook didn’t
truncate the instructions.]


100506

YOU CALLED? (For Denise)

"Boo-hoo!
Had it. Lost it.
Now I want it back.
Lost my mojo;
lost the knack.
Want my mojo back!"

"Yoo-hoo!
Mo' Jo? Here's Jo,
ready and at hand.
You want mo' Jo?—
that's just grand!
Glad I'm in demand!

[ASIDE: Response to a Facebook comment.]


100505

THOTS

shld i hv bot
what i sot?
what i got
was not so hot—
thats why i fot,
but all i wrot
came 2 not.

[ASIDE: Amused by some
Twitter condensations of words.]


100504

NOW THAT’S A MEDIOCRE POEM

It’s so hard to keep up with a quota;
to resign to the mediocre,
to short-change the more promising.
But without the quota,
without the mediocrity,
no promise would be realized.

[ASIDE: This is how poems often start out,
before editing. I think this one may be beyond hope.]


* * *

Cheese and Crackers

* * *


100503

RETICENT

The neighbor’s garden
is at my disposal.

I feel richer in what I don’t take
than in what I do.

Is there a cure for this?


LITTLE HOLES

When the bread has little holes
and hasn’t been soaked overnight,
I dip each slice quickly and put it
in the pan. Then I spoon-feed the
excess egg mixture slowly and gently
over the pores of its upper surface.
By the time I’m done spooning, it’s
ready to be flipped anyway. Some-
times fleshing out a poem is like that:
lingering attentively, filling in gaps.


100502

NATURE WALK NATURE

I do the thing
to be alone;
to think, or not;
and, as I roam,
to breathe fresh air—
breathe freely too.

What will change,
if I’m with you?


[ASIDE: The syntax is wrong,
but I don't like "What would change"
or "when I'm with."]


100501

ENABLER

When your cat pees
on your bed or rug,
you clean things up.
What else can you do?

Then your cat pees
(uncontrite and smug)
in that same place
the moment that you’re through.


100430

[CHALLENGE POEMS]

Take a newspaper article and black out words
to leave a coherent poem of the remaining words
in their original sequence. I tried this twice.


GRANDMOTHERS

The author said,
"I fell wildly in love with this child."

Completely unprepared for this new role,
she made plans to write a memoir
of not just her own experience
but those of other writers;
all the hidden pleasures and perils
of being a grandmother.

She wanted it to be true,
convinced that all baby boomers
are traveling in uncharted waters
as grandparents.

If there's anything she's learned,
it's this: "You need to be supportive
and keep your mouth shut."


NEW ROLE

Author speaks Sunday
about her reaction
to the birth of her first granddaughter.

"Completely unprepared,
heartbroken, furious, devastated."

Asked to write an essay
about being a grandparent,
she didn't change names or anything.

"It provoked feelings in me,
not all of them charitable.
There's something scary
about being a grandparent."

Copies will be available for purchase
at the Sunday event.


100429

P.M. POEM

Are you that overwhelmed?
Has it lost its allure?

(A near-midnight start
for this pome du jour.)


100428

HEALTH-FOOD SLACKERS

Cheese and crackers,
cheese and crackers,
cheese and cheese,
and cheese and crackers.

Fruits and veggies have no backers
in this house of cheese and crackers;
have no home among these slackers.


100427

EVERYDAY POET

even I
of privileged
eye
often fail
to see:

the ease
the deep
the friendly

of the common


100426

TEXAS SPICE

Poorly-painted red words
on poorly-painted white boards
advertise a roadside stand:
"jams" "jellies" "peaches" "tomatoes"

The largest sign recommends:
"RELISH"
"SALSA"

Thanks to a stint in Texas, I do.


[ASIDE: On this one, Fay Jean Royce commented:
"An Arkie lass with Texas sass!"]


100425

THINGS

In your vicinity,
at your approach,
things shift.

If alert,
you may notice
a flutter of wings,
a scurrying,
a sudden splash.

Further ahead,
the more sensitive,
shy, and subtle
have already taken
their leave, leaving only
a toe-track,
a scent,
a broken twig.

Further yet,
other things—possibly—
disappear so quickly
and thoroughly
we don’t even suspect
they exist.


100424

NO ACCOUNT

What have I really done
for this world;
what have I really done?

Whom have I saved or salved
in this world;
whom, when, why—
and what from?


100423

GOING TO POT-BELLY

“Do you think your skin
holds your innards in?”

“Fat chance it does—
because my face has turned to scowls and jowls;
because each thigh’s the size my waist once was;
because my upper arms (once like a girl’s)
now flap just like a flying squirrel’s.

Do I think my skin
holds my innards in?

Not one bit, because—
I have witnessed tears and boobies drop.
Plus, my belly slops over undie tops.”


100422

AMEN TO THAT

As I take this food, I choose:
health, delight, and gratitude.


100421

ATTENDANCE

Three;
three to learn.

One to teach.

One to observe;
one to learn
to teach.


* * *

Floral Scented Potpourri

* * *

100420

READING BETWEEN THE LIONS

Stopped in my tracks
by dandelions—
yellow circles coming into flower,
white spheres going into seed—
I start to track
the over-long overlooked;
that missing phase between.


100419

BIZARRE BAZAAR

Well, Mr. Omnipotent,
I hope you’ve enjoyed
your little game.

About what to believe,
about how to behave—
you’ve stumped me.
I give up.


100418

OCCUPIED

You know the kind:
immersed in passions
at which they flounder.

Critics pan.
Leeches pander.
Life and livelihood get sucked in.
Do they mind?
Nah—happy as clams.


100417

FINAL TANDEM

Not fallen petals
carpeting the orchard,
mirroring pink above with pink below,
but branches pruned at winter’s end—

they flower now in final tandem
with former fellows
reprieved short weeks ago.


100416

SEPARATE WORLDS

Do you want the left world
or the right? the up or down?
the dark or light?
Take whichever pleases you.
I don’t want to fight.


100415

MOST FAVORED

Book or pen,
pen or book?

How hard my life, if I forsook
book or pen, pen or book.


100414

IMPACT

Thunk!
By the time I raced outdoors
the bird was in the jaws of the cat,
who released it to me on request—
a woodpecker.

The long beak,
knocked sideways into the chest
by force of impact,
was plastered with breast feathers.
The breast muscle had been split.
The body was limp and lifeless
except for one eyelid blinking,
one eye roving.

Now—
now that the body, recovered, has flown,
where does the eye rove;
and, over what, the mind?


100413

ONE IOTA FOR MY QUOTA

My five-
dandelion bouquet is three-
fifths faded, my day is four-
and I am more.
One thing left: this poem chore.


DECISIONS, DECISIONS

You can know too much.

At least I can know too much.
Knowing, for instance,
that the least-used restroom stall
is nearest or farthest from the restroom door,
I stop, in spite of urgency, to consider:
which stall do I actually use most often?
Which least? Which did I use last time?
Do I want variety,
so as not to fall into habitual ruts?
Why—if I choose number one this time—
do I do that? am I afraid of something about
numbers two, three, four…?

But let me assure you—
considering my total life experience,
I conclude quickly and accurately about one thing:
any women's stall is more likely to be clean
than any men’s.


100412

BOOK-COVER DESIGN ADVICE (for Cathi)

How much to kern is a matter of concern.
Visual vibration causes consternation.
Fonts should be few; in fact, two will do.
Zap all-caps QUICK in italic or script.
Let images illustrate (not negate or duplicate).
Avoid cliches, plus clip-art way out-of-date,
plus fonts too overused and tame.
Don't use your title as a frame.

[ASIDE: Commenting on a fellow writer's website.]


100411

ODD COUPLE

Raven roved, on the road
from Pittsburgh to Poughkeepsie.
Every time he went away,
that gypsy came back tipsy.

Elephant, his stay-at-home,
was plump from trunk to rump.
She never would be svelte;
at least that's how she felt.


[ASIDE: Wisdom House Books - Challenge:
use the words trunk, svelte, raven, gypsy]


100410

LOOTED

Tempted by a spray of golden forsythia
cascading over a country dirt-road fence,
I draw near, only to find the outermost stems
already snipped off and a cluster of
deer prints in the mud below.


100409

ALL THINGS OLD
MADE NEW AGAIN

Ah, the beauty of the world;
the bounty of our lives!

But Oh—first glimpse, first touch,
first whiff—the beauty of surprise!


100408

HARD TIMES

dandelion bouquet


HARD TIMES

at thrift store;
shopping specials only


HARD TIMES

pondering
less is more


HARD TIMES

in lap of luxury;
then luxury stood up


100407

DEPTH PERCEPTION

In dreams or visions,
what does mind's-eye know?
And does it see things plane
or in stereo?


100406

HER OWN SELF (for Annette)

Frida wore a nose and mouth;
that is how God made her.
Frida wore a unibrow;
no one could dissuade her.


* * *

Intimations of Mortality

* * *

100405

DRIFTER

Where the road ends—

where ceaseless waves of water
and waterlogged debris, suspended,
drift in and out, out and in—

someone faces the wind, chilling;
clouds, darkening;
day, dying;

someone stands immobile,
but for easeless waves of air
breathed in and out, out and in.


100404

WHY?

Doesn't it seem
that people's suffering
is out of all proportion
to any harm they've done—
or even
might have done
in purported prior lives?

What gives?
Who set this up?
If it’s all a game, who’s laughing?


MAD CHATTER

Don’t tell me you don’t have a thousand
voices in your head clamoring, ranting,
fuming, lampooning, and issuing commentary
via a thousand points of view. Don’t tell me you
don’t squelch them rather than belch them, or,
if warranted and you’re in the mood, invite them
to stay for tea or a similar heart-to-heart.


100403

LIMERICKS ON FREELANCE WRITING

There once was an Everyday Poet
who said, “I write well; let me show it.”
Her lance—like her fee
and her spirit—were free,
so soon she went broke, don’t you know it?

There twice was a writer who freelanced.
The first time he quit, his affianced
insisted he do.
Bad clients (time two)
showed him how, with his free lance, to be lanced.

And my favorite...

“Writer for Hire” is my trade.
Of blood, sweat and tears, I have made
my very life’s ink—
but freedom, I think,
is worth all the dues that I’ve paid.


100402

BUMMED

Want work an’ money, like other folk—
tired o’ bein’ so dam broke.


100401

PERSONAL FAVE

Chocolate cake—I gave a look.
Carrot cake—I partook.

Chocolate cake I can decline.
Carrot cake is too sublime.


100331

SWING SHIFT

woke up
half an hour early

rolled over
(big mistake)

showed up
groggy, surly—
half an hour late


100330

GLIMMERS
OF SUCCESS

Holey moley—,
‘bout damn time!

(Making progress slowly.)


100329

ASPIRING POETS—

You want to write right, right?
You want to read, read, read.


ELSEWHERE (for Carrie)

Missed the party;
don't know how.
All that fun!
All that chow!


* * *

Purple Prose and Poetry

* * *

100328

WRITERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE—

Ornate excess, clichés, and slang
overload the whole shebang.
Who can tame the purple page?
Who can spur your words to fly?

When you just can’t get the hang,
hang out with the Zane Grey gang—
masters of the purple sage;
sage “Guest Writers in the Sky."


100328

SURFACE FLAWS

With the touch of a wand
in those anti-wrinkle ads,
facial lines appear or disappear
to age or rejuvenate a face.

While personhood remains intact
behind placid model eyes,
skin conditions
condition perceptions.

Thankfully, the peekaboo
reveals how easily
even these mistakes can be undone;
with the touch of a wand.


100327

SHARED LUNCH

I knew what was up
the minute he proposed shopping
at straight-up noon.

Braum’s is the kind of place
where you can get
bananas and bread
along with your burgers and fries.

Half a loaf
went to the ducks
at the pond by the library.

The geese, Canadians,
barely deigned to sample.
The mallards grazed
but didn’t gobble.
It’s spring—
they have other things
on their minds.


100326

WHAT A DEAL!

I do my part;
he does his.
Mine involves
the shopping list.


ANSWER

There is an answer.
There is always an answer.
The only time
there is no answer
is when you pre-conclude
there is no answer.


* * *