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.


* * *

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."


* * *

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.


* * *

Animals, Weather, Time

* * *

100131

ATTUNED

I love it when he whistles and laughs
and jokes with the cats;
their ears swivel to tune him in;
they climb onto his lap if it’s available;
they gently paw his face, stroke his cheek,
then settle in to ride the warm rhythms
of his chest. "More," they say. "More!"


100130

SNOW DAY

Deer braved the yard today,
where they cautiously fed.
Cats braved the snow for birds.
Birds braved the cats for bread.


100129

WEATHER
WISHERS

What?
You didn’t expect
more snow to fall?

Please.
It’s January,
after all!


100128

BLAST!

"Brace yourselves,"
weathercasters scold,
rhapsodizing over sleet and ice.

Hmmph. That isn't nice; it's cold!


100127

TIME PIECE

"Time flies," Eagle cries.

"Time flies," Frog sighs,
"snatchin’ you up like some bug
that its flickin’ tongue has tazed.
Oh. Time flays," croaks Frog, amazed.
"Time flays," Horse neighs.

"Time flows," Raven crows.

"Time flows," Bear knows,
"driftin’ us along with gentle dreams
of polar ice an’ siftin’ snow.
Ah. Time floes," sighs Bear, mid-doze.
"Time floes," Whale blows.

"Time flees," buzz Bees.

"Time flees," Dog breathes,
"bitin’ our hides to set us movin’,
then lightin’ out; that irritatin’ tease!
Ooh. Time fleas," Dog moans, aggrieved.
"Time fleas," Cat agrees.


[ASIDE: I wanted to leave out quotation marks because they
were so cumbersome and distracting, but that didn't work.]


100126

RELAXED FIT

“When you retire,” his buddies asked,
looking at him a bit askance,
“who, at your house, will wear the pants?”

“Myself,” he winked, with a cheerful glance.
“Of course, I’ll be wearing putter pants.”


100125

TWENTY-TWENTY

Best gift so far,
this twenty-ten—
contact lenses.

I see again!


100124

TOO LATE

I missed a meeting
I meant to attend;
there’s no way to regroup,
recoup, or amend.


100123

BUZZARDS

“Unclean!” they’re seen—

“Untouchable!
Gnarly-headed grotesques. Fearsome
Underlings. Awful offal-eaters.
Horrid things on wings!”

Of this, buzzards are oblivious—
as they are of praise from students
of their ways­­, who say, “It’s official.
Buzzards are good to us. Beneficial.”

They recycle and renew.

Like morticians, beauticians, mothers,
menials, and multitudes of others
(maintenance workers, trash collectors,
hazardous waste operators, plumbers,
and sanitation crews, to name a few)—
discretely and with daily diligence,
they efface life’s ugliness.

They lift in air like dreams.

For those with eyes to see—
such elegance, such grace!


100122

LOOKOUT

At my north-sky facing view,
two trapezoidal windows
show through to a vast expanse
of icy blue; slightly smudged
with gray and white. But—
not a single buzzard in sight.


100121

MEAT OR POISON

One man’s crumpet
is another man’s strumpet.
One woman’s jackpot
is another one’s crackpot.


[ASIDE: Just playing with words, which,
like old stereotypes and clichés, are also
one person’s meat and another’s poison.]


100120

WINTER THUNDER

Startling!

Like a midnight pounding at your door
in the secret-code cadence of a comrade.


SELF-EMANCIPATION

First you have to make it okay
with yourself to think about
what you might possibly want.

Then you have to decide that,
yes, it’s okay to actually want.

Next you allow yourself to
full-heartedly accept
wanted and waited-for things.

After that, permission to pursue
is a natural progression.

In fact, you stand self-revealed
as a natural progression.


100119

CHARM SCHOOLED

It’s hard enough to
charm life into beneficence
when you’re an ingénue;
much less, a nongénue.


ASPIRANT

As if either is a place,
somewhere between seven and seventy,
I got used to living. I expected to expect
every day another day, and every day
three square meals, slow or quick,
and all my blessings double-dipped.

Little plain-old mortal me
aspired to immortality: unending life,
and not just that—ease, abundance, health,
pleasing occupation, and an inside track
to bliss. It hasn’t happened—yet
I’m caught by the idea. First, I’ve heard,
you go through death and back
near-endless times. Or not.


* * *

God and Mortality

* * *


091229

WRITING AT ODD ANGLES

How I love a pencil
when I write in bed!
I can seldom count on ink
like I can count on lead.


WRITING TOOLS

Tonight,
I’m writing with a Papermate
Sharpwriter #2.

(Every paper needs a mate—
some sharp writer who
helps to maximize its worth,
bringing quickened thoughts to birth.)


BODY WRAP (for Ado)

When did my skin get so thin?
It’s like waxed paper crumpled
or an old silk-tissue sheath
I let get stained and rumpled.

[ASIDE: Although I was glancing at my own skin when
writing this, the poem when done aroused feelings of
connection with my friend and "adopted mother" Ado,
who recently died.]


091228

QUALIFICATIONS

You don’t have to kill yourself
looking for a job—at least not
the one that advertised:
"No expirence necessary."


THRILL OF A LIFETIME

When I went to Russia,
I walked the streets alone.

Well, who would want a
group or troupe
when one can walk alone?


LIGHT OF HEART (for Susan)

May we be thankful
today for the light,
which fills each of our lives
with love and delight
and, next to each sunspot,
shows all the more bright.

[ASIDE: Susan’s 10 most frequently used words on Facebook are:
thankful, today, may, little, more, our, which, sunspot, each, and light.]


PROSECUTORIAL IMMUNITY

If you are in a position
to stop a murder or other crime
and do nothing to prevent it,
you can be held liable
as an accessory to the crime—
unless, of course, you’re God.


CODE VIOLATION

I don’t enjoy washing cockroaches
down the drain and I suspect
they’re not thrilled either.
Why do I do what doesn’t make us happy?


CAVEAT PRE-EMPTOR

Here’s some advice,
straight on the level—
a bargain’s no bargain
that’s made with the devil.


ACE IN THE HOLE

Dad’s the king of comedy.
Mom’s a drama queen.
Brother—what a joker!

Our home is quite a scene.
(There are no guards
in this mental ward.)

In this place, I'm an ace.
I live in a house of cards.


CHILLED

Our bed is cold;
I'm about to freeze.
Come warm me up.
Come catch some zzz's.
Quit dallying—
you're such a tease!

“I guess I might—
if you’d said please!”


DIVINE INFERNAL

God is a heavenly
Being of love,
or so the scriptures tell.

His master plan
included man.
(What in hell
was He thinking of?)


091227

BE A PRO

Write as if.
That's your gift.

See it done.
Make it fun.
The odds against—
though stacked sky high—
are odds against
you must outfly.

Write as if.
That's your gift


091224

WASS AILING ME?

Christmas is here;
that time of hobnobbing.
All of my friends
are busy eggnogging.

I should feel cheer—
instead, I am sobbing
over a tooth
that set my jaw throbbing.

Wait! It’s come clear—
the cure for my flogging!
Drown it in beer.
Go glugging and grogging!


‘TIS THE NIGHT
BEFORE CHRISTMAS

I'm making a list,
checking it twice—
last minute shopping
for naughty and nice.


091222

IMPOUNDED

Bewildered--
that is my first impression
of the kennel occupants;
the dogs for whom life has
so abruptly changed.

I wonder, do they eventually
acclimate, resigning themselves
to concrete, gravel and chain-link?
Or is there even time for that?

Their bodies
express everything so candidly—
history, temperament, thought.

Love and pain co-reside in their eyes.

In this place, they receive
excellent care by caring people—
but they know, and we know
that life should not be like this.
This is not right.

We are brethren,
designed to be free—
following our hearts and noses
over the wide, wondrous,
sun-warmed earth—
not chain-linked to, or from, anything.


SEVEN WEEKS

People don't stay kid-cute long.
As for kittens, the window of cuteness
closes quickly.

At the shelter, animal discards
are caged and dated.
No matter their age now,
the young cats at pickup
were almost invariably
seven weeks old.
Something ended then
that can't be recaptured.


BARGAINER

Given time,
I swear I will.

Let me live
until until.


091221

THOU SHALT (for Ethan)

Hey, Yaweh!
Hey, Krishna!
Hey, Allah!
Who died and
made you God?

[ASIDE: I got to thinking about that strangely-worded
final sentence which is so often bandied about.]


* * *