Haiku 373, 374

Gray wool offshore mist.
Watery garden twilight.
Ocean boulevard.

cold steel shadow blue.
tornado season. deep breath.
hypnotic sky watch.



Here is another of those two-sentence stories with poetry added. I’m thinking of them as “Minuscule” and quick to read.

Read the first Minuscule, the explanation of why I wrote it and got started on this idea, and search under the category Fiction/Poetry Combination for others in the series.



A low roaring sound drew her forward and she opened the heavy door to step into the huge dim room, moving up to the half wall and looking over the expanse of wooden floor, a single row of scarred wooden benches snaking off into the half-darkness on either side of her.

Isabel was alone in the vast empty space, yet she heard the rumble of roller skate wheels, the laughter and the shrieks, the music from scratchy speakers, the occasional thud as a skater slammed into the wall; she felt the effort of lifting her own heavy feet as she made her way to the floor, four wheels on each skate joining the rumble as she stepped into the flow of all the skaters who had ever done a circle around the rink, and she glided off with them.


the place it was born
it returns
in circles
time and distance no matter
Come with me, it says

(Shadorma 51)

Misty Memory small

Misty memory, mail art postcard.

Shadorma 5, 7, 9

These poems were published in Clean Canvas, 2018.

aching bones
overworked muscles
out of bed
feet on floor
slow tired walk down the cold hall
a long hot shower

the trophy held high:
plate of nuts
petit fours
cheese cubes, pecan tarts, fudge bites
The crowd parts. You taste the spoils.

Apartment house.
On the second floor
dark window
streetlight moon and nothing else.
No one lives there now.

Shadorma 1-4

These poems were published in Rearrange, 2018.

The peeled beet
reveals concentrics
dark red-shaded-to-purple
precious gem facets

gone just gone
slipped over the edge
out of sight
never was
if you could lie to yourself
you would believe it.

party guests
knocking on the door
winter night
warm room and conversation
driving out the dark

pecan tarts
three-bite-sized, no more
tucked in purses or pockets
for a snack at home

The Banana Pepper

From the collection published in 2017, Picture Making. The three photos served as the inspiration for the poem. For more information, look here.

The Banana Pepper

Banana pepper
in your pot. I address you.
I say again
at the picture
of The Banana Pepper
on the little plastic tag.
the text.

For your future reference
we will stick the information sign
in the dirt at the base
of you, our own banana pepper
to guide you
as you aspire to becoming
The Banana Pepper.

we all just sit back and
wait. It has already
been figured out for us. Individual preferences are
not an issue. Not required and not requested.
How pleasant for us
and thank you,
The Banana Pepper.

6/9/16 for 6/8/16

Day Trip Poetry Marathon 2018, Week 23

The Marathon journey continues. Search under the category Day Trip Poetry Marathon 2018 for earlier entries.

Back at Montco today on June 7. A mild day with sun breaking through the clouds.

Montco 6-7- #3007

As I was driving here, I tuned into WXPN Philadelphia, because it’s Throwback Thursday, something they do each Thursday in the summer. This week’s theme is 1968.

Montco 6-7- #8002

Well, I was nine years old that summer, and listening to Laura Nyro and Herb Alpert and Dionne Warwick this morning took me back to that time. On a day like today at this hour of the morning, I’d be in the pool at Old Hickory Golf Club in Tennessee for swim practice, most likely. Summer and chlorine and suntan lotion and my bathing suit straps tied up with a shoelace, because my suit was always bought big to allow for growing over the summer. And the water so cold when we first got in and my hair bleached blond by the pool chemicals and the air humid and the sun always shining…

I felt almost homesick for the past by the time I got to the school and it was hard to bring myself back to today, so involved I was in thinking about those times. A whole population of people I knew then, including me, have grown old and changed so much or even have died, and yet they all are alive in my memory. Including me. I’m the same as I ever was.

Yes, I am, don’t worry, nine-year-old self, I am still here and so are you.

All right. Let’s move on to 2018.

The campus looks so green and lush.

Look at these pink flowers, too. A nice assortment.

I got myself all set up on the main floor.

I planned to write new poems and Little Vines, as usual. I really hoped to do some Minuscule work, too. I have a vague plan to write tomorrow if I don’t get to that last bit. There is no hurry today.

Before I got to work, I checked my art-drop-offs.

The two faces are still here. Here are their locations – if you are within the sound of my voice and can get to Montco, go into the library, go to these coordinates, and take these wanderers home!

Montco 6-7- #1009

I’ll leave you with this last bit – if you don’t know the song “This Guy’s in Love With You”, Herb Alpert, then you need to listen to it and as an encore, try Laura Nyro and “Stoned Soul Picnic”. Just saying.

OK. A sample of today’s work.

I heard a bird outside my back door a couple of days ago.

Small? I don’t know.
Its stab needle call
can’t say it’s a song
it is not melodious but
I have learned
bird size and sound size
have nothing to do with each other
it is
holes opened in the air
staggered out spaced unsymmetrical
the pattern uneven like this:


screak screak screak


screak screak

pulling the thread tight
drawing up the air in pleats
and then
knotted off and cut.

Gone or silent?
I don’t know.
I have learned
some questions
do not need an answer
only that I asked
and listened for it.

I try to stay away from politics. Well, it is hard to do that these days.

Shiraz is a wine
or maybe a carpet. I’m not sure.
My knowledge nibbles along the edges
of a lot of subjects but I usually avoid
taking in a full meal and certainly there are gaps
in my diet. I did do a college thesis and in great detail
I explained every iota of everything there is to know
concerning a connection between
ladybug populations and
the effect on Chesapeake Bay oysters
for which I won a prize. So there. Hurrah for me
but the hoopla is long over and now I’m content
to count nouns on the first page
of every novel I read as my contribution
to national security and/or the numerical balance
of the universe whichever comes first. Everything accrues,
as they say. Of course I would appreciate your vote
for my re-election to the Senate but you do what you think best
plenty of others are happy to ease me into port one more time.
I will mention that I have a tiered contribution program
that may interest you as well as an estate planning option
cradle to grave my campaign is everywhere for everyone.
Thank you and excuse me
my limo is out front and the umbra waits for no one.

A shadorma.

gutter gush
down drainpipe the rain
seeking cracks
in concrete
finding them. Any small seeds
paying attention?

Little Vines.

a duel inside the refrigerator
dawn to noon
dinner will be late again tonight

the whole clan disappeared
you’ll find them under the sofa

it will be a long lonely summer
the only egg I ever wanted to spend time with
had a great fall

we have a very full calendar
we do all our own exploiting
right here on the premises

the pink happy
cut with scissors
it’s called a Valentine heart

sound of rain on the flat roof
were you awake at midnight
when the deadly poison ooze arrived?

The staring contest
I won
she bugged her eyes out just a little too far

your optimism is always so draining
suddenly I developed a headache
it was just too much rainbow talk for me

noon and still not dressed
stymied by this uncomfortable wig
I can’t tell the inside from the outside

stalks me
eats me

you peered through those thick lenses
big shards of glass
focusing the life-giving green eyes behind them

Pink head full of ants
My date for tonight
Give me just five minutes before I panic

you geek you are a cliché
that’s my final word
until we sort out the paperclips

Thank you for reading! See you next time.

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