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Thursday, January 30, 2014

Song of the Throat Chakra

Palm Reader

Seducing the Swan

It's easier than you might think,
to catch the affection of a god.
Bathe slowly, paying attention to detail,
every drop -- how
the streams run from nape to nipple. The contour of a knee
pulls them in every time.
It is this easy.
But after a coy year
I left
a trail of pears, whole and some
slightly nibbled until, under the gateway,
we met.
I took flight,
in a bed
of white

My Fatima

In 2004, a friend of mine, Sue Gerard, asked me to write short poems in response to her art.
I just found the old disc I had them saved on.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

The Roundup

All remaining 2013 Fords must go. I just don’t buy promises that there will not be any. Hallie Newcastle did it. I imagine she is here to continue the myth. Maybe it was simply too much basketball.

The Weather Service says there is a 20 percent chance of rain Thursday. On average, people swallow 1.5 liters of urine when swimming in a public pool. Your health is our main concern. The meeting opened with little fanfare. We are talking a public funded water utility here. Print free local coupons. 

He bought the van two months ago at an auction for $500. "I paid too much," he said. And Evans said the college would be allowed to have grass for sports field. View photos of Christian singles. The expenses will arrive with night terrors.

When I heard I had won, I was like, “WAAAA!” Millions are powering their homes at no cost. Built an arena then tore it down, moved it, and enlarged it. I lived in Germany for three years while in the Air Force. They suggest taking shelter in a "sturdy building."

Hi there, my name is Ashley and I’m a 27 year old married woman. Think yourself raw. Girl gets $1,000 scholarship for humongous plant. Won't grab this "tar baby" but will offer this thought. Just don’t play the machines. I smell money and will repeal it from the product vaccines. Once again, I am outraged. Show them how large you are. A fire is burning at the bicycle shop. Welcome to the circus, Johnny.

If we are to remain a "free" people, we are going to have to correct that situation. The scientific breakthrough is here. I will contact the gallon shared. My thoughts aren't complicated. I wondered how you felt about them. Don’t be left on the sidelines wishing you would have played, sign up today. I think it's the cops that have invaded. We’ve got a bad feeling about this, Poncho.

We’re not out of the hospital. His oxygen is harder to appreciate. But at least we’re off life support. Pet owners, be aware there is someone poisoning pets. Ted was reduced to three prayers.

In addition to being pit bulls, they were large, black, and loud in their kennels. How perfect of you to mail in wonder. If you live with a cat who has turned your upholstery into mere shreds, you’re probably at your wit’s end. Wake up tomorrow with an extra $6,500 in your bank account. 

The crews set fire to about 1,300 acres along the Control Road. When you get burned you should crack an egg and you won't get a scar. Every detail was negotiated. The suspect died of possibly self-inflicted gunshot wounds after a 40-minute, high-speed chase. The trigger was exhausted. When you die, your hair still grows for a couple of months.

Last night, while trying to barbecue hamburgers and hotdogs on the deck for Betsy’s birthday this interrupted us. I think the pyramids were built in less time. Karaoke means "empty orchestra" in Japanese. We know that term immediately denies the fact.

It is genetically impossible for a rose to come in the color blue. Thank you, bell ringers. Love precedes memories. One of the highlights of the wrestling season is upon us. The eagle went in for a fish, but missed. He generously motions towards November.

Things started so well for the Longhorns. I simply think that is wrong. Read more in Tuesday's paper.


dVerse Form for All
Playing with non-poetry, plagiarism, and juxtaposition.
Not sure how I feel about it, but it was fun to read aloud. 

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Human Torch In Flagrante Delicto

My charcoal conspires
with an incalescent breath, a molten wind
rushing over your concrete drive like a lover
hastily reddening
her three-alarm lips, I have
what you burn for and drag it
through the oily streets, my flame
draws its tongue across the sclera
of your briquette eyes.            Eyes
sizzling deep in your
pyromantic face.         Intent, I fly
from your window,

back-drafted, you are my bed-wetter
by sadism, scratching your fingers
over the warning: close cover
before striking.            You suffer

my advance until you wake, chained
to my exothermic reaction, the heat
between us is ripe enough

to pick, our fruit
twists like a pillar of fire
and our wandering voices blaze
in the smoldering wilderness

dverse: the verbs

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Black Olives

The bent lamp contemplates fire, its light
is louder than emergency.
What in the world, in this house,

can make him his father.  Are coffee stains
on a V-neck tee-shirt equated with perseverance?

Is the sharp fetor of Skoal lingering in the toolshed
instilling in him a work ethic, or instructing him
how to use slip knots to secure plywood
to the roof of a foreign car?

There were days when he would swear
avocados and black olives would strengthen skin,
deepen the simian creases

in his palms.  There is a generational pride
in rough hands, even for the son

who dreads the shovel and the word
chassis scares him to death:  Son,
                        what the hell are you

doing in there?            Writing
a poem, cursing

that red wheel barrow,
shit depends on it.  Right now

so much more depends
on how the son
answers the father,

even as an electric heat
fills the room.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Comic-Spirit Attending

I was your pratfall hee-hee, Louisville
Slugger chivalry, tilting agave stalk
at wandering shopping carts

All my clumsy was premeditated, escalated
ho-ho, tit for tat, I sang ku ku with my good arm      
flailing at the pompous, child-like

They knelt on a brown papyrus bag
stuffed with color, a parakeet inside
lifted the spectrum from their crawling shadow

My totem was stitched to my shirt, the emblem
never wavering as my brothers watched me
leap from the pit, waltzing the merchants  

In your oldest story, I remained,
rooster-crested, I let go
of your tail, singing

Ha ha in the garden
Feng huang, a-doodle-doo

Until we lunch and milkshake
phoenix-like, resurrected
on twisting knee

Until I return on the Encanto train, I will nest
among pistachios, motley-plumed
imagine me

broad-smile beside you,
when eternity fits your laugh
with a gray top-hat and oversized coat