Full Moon Night Walk: Two

From Use All Your Eyes to See, published 2020.

Full Moon Night Walk: Two

We stumble
night blind as we are
on tree roots
upthrust rocks
on the shadows underneath
the catalpa tree

our own feet.
Laughter and crickets
blend a song
the tall grass
strokes the strings. We make our way
through the full moon night.

shadorma chain

Little Vines 10/27/20

New Little Vines. Here is this week’s array.

a tray of uplifted trite
raised arm palm up the waitress
skimmed it over the empty heads
arrayed across the crowded dining room

the piano the armchair the carpet in the dining room
the arrogances of our past now sold at auction
for much less than we would have imagined

lackluster capers
in a foggy oil
peer out at me from their glass jar
beyond caring whether I buy or not

I had a dream last night I went to swat a fly
On the way down the swatter became a hammer
the fly turned into you. Splot. Sorry.

I didn’t know how to tell you
why the cat didn’t care for you
because I didn’t know myself
Do you honestly think the cat ever confides in me?

the wayfarer in his dark cloak arriving
his head too heavy for his shoulders

I’m telling you don’t start crying unless you’re willing
to go all out: splotchy face hiccupping sobs and
snot running out of your nose

in a dream state
the swim team swam the butterfly
up into the rafters and out through the skylight

the unappreciated importance of a seam line
the overlooked risk of its collapse. Results:
I watch the threads part in her too-small evening gown

I kissed her toad lips
my rotund little love my precious rough-skinned darling
Her bulging eyes shine so bright! There is no one like her.

This candy possibly too much of a muchness of caramel?
Of too richer too heaviest too sweetmost?
Of a whatness of nonsense can you be speaking? There is no such thing.

My stick over my shoulder
my bandanna tied up with just what I need
Except for you. Please come with me.

His appeal is bland and flat
a beige kind of electricity
weak and tepid. Not second date material.

Revered One you offer me
a very fancy cup of tea
It must mean something but I beseech you:

disciplined to be
intense and emotionless
the enormous muscle triumphs.

The past starves
locked outside the brain
that once sheltered it in memory

The baker frowns
The bread cracks across its top
How the two of them do look so much alike!

Like singing refrain before verse
Like putting on shoes before socks
She decided to get married then looked for the man.

Words set down in a lost language
On the page opposite
a photo of three anonymous men in suits.
You can see the meaning for yourself. Can you not?

The popularity of the legend
explodes outside the genre.
Tourism. Souvenirs. But does anyone still believe?

the almost-bald guy and his few strands of hair
he washes them beneath a gentle waterfall
a showerhead specially made to cosset feeble follicles

her muddy shoes shedding clods on my living room carpet
and yet she continues across the room –
that is when I knew we were not kindred souls.

small budget and sparse bargains carried home
yet I have found these for you –
a pound of cherries like rubies spilled out on the table

such a lot of dishes to wash
multiples of greasy and sticky
covered in tomato sauce. Ugh.

Which way will your version of revenge
if I grab its knife and twist?

the pen runs across the statistic
back and forth back and forth
its black ink obliterating the red.

His bridge builds a populated unity
composed of many and various sizes and shapes
a miracle of love and engineering

my rolling pin chasing down biscuit dough
around her in circles the cutter hops and jumps
biscuits flying out right and left.

Time has faded and cooled him
there is no telling now the differences between
the outside and the inside of him

Mr. Refrigerator

From Use All Your Eyes to See, published 2020.

Mr. Refrigerator

Standing next to the door
behind the crowd
back up against the wall
the rectangle box of a man in a neat black suit

middle manager
(rates a small office
not a cubicle
two client chairs
no conference table)

waiting for an elevator
in a center city office building
quite at ease
concealing everything
behind his cool blank face


Awakened from a Dimly-Lit Dream

From Use All Your Eyes to See, published 2020.

Awakened from a Dimly-Lit Dream

People sitting in the tiered rows
of the overheated auditorium
every single one of them
suspended in a half doze
if not fallen over its edge into
an after-lunch nap

The speaker wrapping up
with a ripple of sibilance
over hard-edged consonants

It’s the contrast that awakens them
the fact that the stream of sounds
has finally stopped
that rouses the audience
They rise and shuffle along the aisle
pulling on coats
swinging bags over shoulders
through the microphone-enhanced
sound of papers shuffling at the lectern
but who cares?
suddenly there is plenty of life in this crowd
it’s not too late to go out and get a drink
is it?


Tanka 146-148

From Use All Your Eyes to See, published 2020.

Tanka 146

Act now, isopods:
this could be your time to shine.
Segmented attire
is ripe for fashion fission!
Yes! Smile for the camera.


Tanka 147

my accountant said
let’s go through the bank statements
money disappears
unless we tie it up tight
cut off its circulation


Tanka 148

and living just fine thanks to
those false credentials
the new me a retired chef
sun-grilling myself surfside


Baking Cookies

From Use All Your Eyes to See, published 2020.

Baking Cookies

The blustery wind
the trees on the hill
the branches that fall on their leaves.
The warmth in the kitchen
the oven door opened
the dishtowels spread on the table
the dining room filled with the cookies to cool.

The smell of
the ointment I smear on my burned finger
the nutmeg and hot sugar and raisins
the tablecloth and the scratchy blue carpet
the dusty dry air the heater blows out
the red wool sweater my grandmother wears.


Just Enjoy Yourself Poetry Marathon 2020 Week 43

The Marathon journey is in its fourth year. Just Enjoy Yourself is its current incarnation.

This week the Marathon took place at home on October 22. I’ll be illustrating this post with some photos from around my house. Let’s start with this little bee on a zinnia. It is alive, very slow and feeble. It’s cold for it to be still flying around. Somehow the sight of it determinedly out in the world was very moving to me today.

I felt in the mood for words today, any words, just choosing words and then seeing what ideas might arise. I used a random word site I have worked with before and chose the paragraph option – mostly because it would give me a whole lot of jumble of words at one go.

I don’t usually take the sentences or phrases straight from the suggestions – most of the time there is a word or two I like or that makes me get a new idea to run with. But there is no overlooking the idea of serendipity – if there is a string of words to be pulled, I will do so.

Last thing – I was also in the mood for counting. All the work I did was either haiku, tanka, or shadorma.

Now, how about some poetry?

Here are a couple of kitchen items, and I snapped a couple of kitchen photos to go along with them. The first one is a shadorma.

of dinner plates chat
Stray ladle
reaches out
for a unifying word.
A pot breathes out steam.

A haiku.

the red spatula
ministers to the onions
frying in the pan

A shadorma. I do not know what it means. The leaves are from hosta plants in my front yard.

The sun moves
your brassy escort
and over
beyond. The empire gossips.
A gnome breathes out leaves.

My knee is fine, thank you, but I was thinking about some others I know who will be having knee work done. And that led me to thinking about some of my own doctor visits for other items. Next thing you know, here is a haiku.

the doctor mumbles
generic commentary
at my aching knee

A shadorma.

Will the ghosts
mock the medium
up to now
corraling ectoplasm
for a nice profit?

And now I will end with some autumn magic from my yard. Thank you for reading.