land dragged from sea river-snaked salt marsh what moves? what's still?
Salt Marsh Haiku
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Category Archives: Poetry
POEM: Figment
I'm in a special mode of mind. One in which nothing is ahead or behind. Everything is shades of a me that doesn't exist. So, maybe I'm a reflection of all that is -- in as much as there is an "I." I don't know how I slipped into this anti-solipsist stance -- believing everything exists, but I. I'm a figment, but since I can't be a figment of my own imagination, I'm not sure what flavor of figment I might be.
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POEM: Calamity Came
We heard the sound, distant rumbling. We watched the castles fall, crumbling. The choice of running to the rubble, or staying safe in our bubble. But either way, someway it'd hurt with either hands or head in dirt. Some tragedies are too galactic, and words just sing anticlimactic.
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POEM: Nom de Guerre
They called him "the Emperor of Pain," the they who didn't know his real name, a name that was comically disjointed to his reputation, a name that was to this man as that gentle lisping voice is to Mike Tyson, and so they gave him that ridiculous name, and he became both more and less than what he really was.
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POEM: Finding Your Zen through Travel [PoMo Day 30 – Epigram]
I Pray for smooth travels... but not too smooth; bad experiences make good stories. II Mother nature is the kind of mother who doesn't play favorites. III Fairness and simplicity are fine, but the solution that works may be neither. IV Difficulties only ruin trips attitudinally doomed. V Think of lost luggage as an exercise in creative decision making.
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POEM: Don’t Tease the Monkeys
Hey, naked baby macaque, who stole the hair off of your back, but left you that blocky hairdo? Perhaps, you didn't think your look through?
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POEM: Mask of the Introvert [PoMo Day 28 – Confessional]
I vibrate wariness at the approach of strangers, and have a face within my Janus repertoire that is labeled: "off-putting." An approaching stranger, having passed by those cues, will -- at some point -- realize something is off, as if I'm holding my breath 'til the conversation's end - but not that, precisely At any rate, they will yield to whatever it is, in due time. [Maybe, I seem contagiously itchy.] Remarkably, I went decades without realizing any of this. To be fair, I never get a good look at myself at the moment I'm meeting a stranger. [And, if I did, I wouldn't have the brainpan bandwidth to do anything with the information.] Now, I'm training myself to behave elsewise, but the score is still 50 years to 1.
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POEM: The Mazy Days of Plague-time [PoMo Day 27 – Rondeau Quatrain]
With mazy movement, I stagger through my days, my stops and starts are dull and purposeless. My stops and starts are glum and purposeless. With mazy motion, I stagger through my days. Earth 's circled sun since last I was unfazed, but I can't say what has encircled us. With mazy movement, I stagger through my days, my stops and starts are sour and purposeless. My life before seems like a febrile craze. How goes the flow of time? It's merciless, but leaves slim chunks of time for nervousness -- too staccato a rhythm for a true malaise. With mazy movement, I stagger through my days, my stops and starts are grim and purposeless. My stops and starts are dim and purposeless. With mazy motion, I stagger through my days.
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POEM: Misinformed GPS [PoMo Day 26 – Pantoum]
In one hundred meters, turn right! In five hundred meters, U-turn! Turn left now... Recalculating. In three hundred meters, turn left! In five hundred meters, U-turn! U-turn, now... Recalculating. In three hundred meters, turn left! In one hundred meters, turn left! U-turn, now... Recalculating... Recalculating... Recalculating. In two kilometers, turn right! ¿Debería hablar español? Recalculating... Recalculating. Do you think this is funny, Hal? ¿Debería hablar español? Hal, I swear I'll have an Amber Alert put out on this car. You don't think I have computer friends? You don't think two can play at this game. You want to play thermonuclear war? It's on!
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POEM: Counterfactual Life
Where we born with an infinity of lives at our feet -- chosen by how one steers all the forks in one's road? Or, are all those alleged forks false gods?
Tiger Riding for Beginners 