Thursday, April 21, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
After the rain,
there's only hush;
from leafedge and twig
sussurates in the grass.
The night is mute
one cricket twinkles.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
A rattle of pops,
fusillade of joint cracks,
tendon clicks and creaks:
sleep-taut flesh folds, bends, twists,
yelps, yields --
The honeysuckle stretches its tendrils
into the sun,
blossoms unfolded for the bee;
you reach out for me,
with your need.
Wet brown leaves
paper the path,
missing fall's usual rustle.
Sometimes the end comes
with a hushed step.
Creation is always messy;
no one gets it right the first time.
Looking carefully, one will find what's left behind --
fractured attempts, twisted discards,
See? The night sky is littered
with the detritus of light.
The glittering, intricate mechanism
of the yellowjacket
dawdles along in the sun,
sauntering back to the nest
for a short siesta.
Sometimes I just want to forget
the names of things
for the wonder of rolling them on the tongue again
for the first time:
. . . .spatterdock
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . teasel
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .vetch
"When I Ate Lucinda's Liver" shows disturbingly remarkable insight
into the role of erotic cannabalism in contemporary society.
* * *
I haven't been so deeply moved by a poetic discussion
of how to field dress a deer
since reading Sir Gawain and the Green Knight as an undergraduate.
* * *
Who could have imagined that replacing the head gasket on a Honda SOHC4
could be such an intense emotional rollercoaster?
* * *
I was truly enchanted by your profoundly poetic rendering
of the classic "Sam and Janet Evening"
* * *
It would never have crossed my mind that so many different ways
of preparing frog legs as a gourmet delicacy
could have been so exhaustively rendered in rhyming dactylic hexameter triplets.
* * *
The notion of recasting The Iliad as a feud between rival Mafia families
is truly staggering,
as is the choice of the limerick
as the basic stanza pattern for the whole piece.
I simply cannot give adequate expression to my feelings
at the thought there are 23 books still to go.
* * *
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Moisture shrouds the rounded river pebble
by the path;
bare molecules deep, that sheath harbors the sun
and veils the stone with light.
Remarkable how the fragile
can contain such radiance.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
X - Treme Yoga
This course is for those who have
nothing left to lose.
Please sign the Liability Release Form
and the Medical Power of Attorney
before beginning the first session.
Warm-up: The Look-I've-Found-A-Sweatbee-Nest Salutation
Pose I: The Spoiled Child's Tantrum
Pose II: The Feeding Anaconda Twist
Pose III: The Two-Humped Camel
Pose IV: The Buttered Crescent Roll
Pose V: The Contorted Flowering Quince
Pose VI: The Plummeting Mountaintop Bend
Pose VII: The Rotating Paddlewheel
Pose VIII: The Bewildered Squid
Pose IX: The I-Never-Thought-I'd-Get-To-See-That-Part-Of-My-Body Fold
Pose X: The Forward-Stretched Hexagonal Unfurling Lotus Blossom
Cool-down: The Defunct Jellyfish Flop
Saturday, April 09, 2011
"Imagine yourself as a pebble . . . ."
-- Thich Nhat Hanh
Ah, if only I were,
then I'd tell my enemies
with literal precision:
Friday, April 08, 2011
"Soon you, too, will lose
all interest in your past."
-- Susan Musgrave
All knots and scars assuaged
by the surge of the sea,
I lie at the tide's furthest reach,
unassailed and at rest.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
The dragonfly flickers
above the shimmering stream --
staccato run in pitch and silver.
Monday, April 04, 2011
Sunday, April 03, 2011
Saturday, April 02, 2011
Friday, April 01, 2011
NaPo Entry 4/2
Tattered tufts of cattails
lift above the rain-filled ditch,
prayer flags winterworn to threads
answered by wet green points thrust up