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!


* * *