Wrong Idea

From the collection Look Winter in the Face, published 2015. With this poem I have finished posting the entire book. So, you’ve now read it! Thank you for following along.

Wrong Idea

When I talk or what I say or did do
None of that makes
did make
ever will make its way through the turbulence
that I used to think I was if not the cause
then the one sending out the wrong kind of magnetic particles or
smashing the atoms backwards
but I stepped out of the static a while back and found a route
through those choppy waves and then I
picked up transportation out of there
and after that I learned
it wasn’t me.

Postcard Moon over the red planet 3-18 small

Mail art postcard, 2018.

Heart Lost

From Autumn Opens a Door, 2015.

Heart Lost

The lady hunches over her cell phone,
her knitted tunic drooping and
her turquoise handbag slack. Her voice
has the juice drained out of it.
Everything about her expresses
something silenced
something
like a cave-in after demolition had already started.

Postcard ink bw lady looking at her phone 11-17 small

Postcard, brush and ink, 2017.

Dictator

From Generous With the Details, collection published 2017.

Dictator

The shirts piled in the laundry basket
Wrinkled. Each one according to
its own likes and dislikes
time spent in the dryer
and fabric content.
Get out the iron. Embark on
a purposeful removal
of some creases and
deliberate addition
of others. Create
a topography
distinguished by approved-only
landmarks. Flatten out
undesirable individuality.
Put away the iron.

11/15/16

Small Landscape #1 6-13 small

Postcard, acrylics, 2013.

Haiku Group House Painters

From Generous With the Details, collection published 2017.

Haiku Group House Painters

i.
The paint rollers hiss
white strokes across the ceiling
Fresh, right from the can

ii.
The painters have set
a rhythm of pure white strokes
to radio songs

iii.
The painters apply
the white paint while the cat cries
at the basement door

iv.
The painters shouting
above radio music
discussing haircuts

v.
Home disassembled.
Furniture covered. Walls bare.
Painters here today.

vi.
The bucket of paint
divided into brushloads
regroups on the wall

vii.
The frayed walls need paint
to make amends for aging.
Brush on a thick coat.

6/9/16

Postcard house in the fields 3-18 small

Mail art postcard, 2018.

Exploded

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.

Exploded

The conversation was so ludicrous, it seemed to me that it must be made up of movable parts that had shaken themselves out of sequence, like one of those square puzzles where you pushed the letters around each other until they made words, if you could actually do it – I sure never could. Because what I was hearing could not be true: I knew we lived in dangerous times on a dangerous planet, but I never expected that the rigors and the tedium of grocery shopping would finally so unhinge my mother’s mind that she would hand me a hundred-dollar bill, tell me to get in the car, get a gallon of milk, and keep the change.

Which, for all I knew
it had been years in coming,
civilization
neatly falling to pieces,
but that it happened today?

(Tanka 104)
3/4/18

 

OK, Let's Go Shopping small 2013

“OK, Let’s Go Shopping” – mail art postcard 2013.

Insight

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.

 

Insight

The therapist had died of old age, gone to heaven, and learned three songs on the harp before the patient finished her description of a blighted childhood and addressed her mayhem-filled teenage years, thought Dr. Harryfall, a simple impatient facetious thought suddenly jet-fueled by a red-hot impatience with people, their problems, and specifically all the drama she had heard in, oh, say the last week, for starters.

Amnesia would be so handy right now, she reflected, not sure whether she meant to administer it to her patient or to herself, when the stream of white noise coming from the woman abruptly changed into a high-pitched staccato screeching – I can’t remember what I was just saying, it’s all dropped right out of my mind, everything’s a blank, I have no idea what I’m doing here, and who are you, get away from me! – and Dr. Harryfall jumped up and stepped over to the patient in what she later thought of as a light bulb moment: today, she had made a true treatment breakthrough.

 

Think again
this brainwave of yours:
Embroider
the worn cloth
and re-cover the old chair?
Better to buy new.

Shadorma 63
2/19/18

Just Thinking About It Gives Me the Chills small

“Just Thinking About It Gives Me the Chills” – mail art postcard, 2013.

 

 

 

 

 

Indications

 

Indications

Fat boy
T-shirt stretched across his stomach
shorts too tight.
Skinny legs, though,
and maybe he’ll grow out of
such awkwardness.
He’s going to need braces, too,
those teeth will cost some money to fix.
Well, I don’t know him, do I?
All I can do is tell you
my first impression.

 

Teeth Grinding

“Teeth Grinding” collage/acrylics mail art postcard

Individual

From Catch Up With Summer, 2015.

Individual

The cashier at the grocery store
stands at the register
no one before her
She waits
blank expression on her face
for a customer
to appear
No more than the register
the counter
the belt that moves the groceries
the cash drawer
the rack of bags
is she
as she waits
to be of use

I'm Taking It to the Cash Register Myself small