to donna sue atkins
ever and forever are our sisters
and never is negated with a deed
with some grit in our endeavor
we will fulcrumize our lever
and our world will shift will perk up and take heed
..
we do better with our betterment and vistas
of enlightenment delight us right before us
lovingkindness is a plus
yes and ever be it thus
as our voices harmonize in blended chorus
the convenient folding table that i unfolded
and put stuff on just for a moment so I could tidy up
became loaded with more and more stuff
as the moment stretched from minutes to months
..
it is like an archeological dig
of the one-person Sculptor Wannabe culture
prevalent in the mid 2020s
..
i am a clumsy, unorganized archeologist
i just don’t dig it
but the love of my life is coming to town
so dig i must
to clear the table
to fold the table
to vow
never to dig myself such an above-ground hole
ever, ever, EVER again
someone in hong kong sees me
according to my wordpress analytics
and I wonder what that person sees
in my digital scribblings
and who that person is
and if the benefit of returning to “Home page/Archives”
day after day
includes an acquisition of a better command of english
or a better grasp of american insanity
or both or neither.
it may be that the person is an expatriate
and knows plenty about english and insanity.
it may be my quirky illustrations and murky calligraphy are intriguing.
..
the author of childhood’s end, arthur c. clarke,
once speculated about the future in imaginative ways
and then delivered the boggling punchline
“The truth, as always, will be far stranger.”
..
if that being in hong kong is a person,
i wish that person well
and offer their seeing of my posts as proof
that observation alters reality.
..
Buckminster fuller greeted people not with hello
but i see you.
i am glad we see one another.
Woman of My Dreams
The Fate that Oversees things deals a card
Which wafts upon the breeze to you afar
Of suddenness of froth of filigree
Mad hopes compel a voyage out to sea
And bring you merriment with love’s sly charm
Now Aye & Thou–Yes!! HOPE! & that Disarms
Note: This week I asked the woman pictured, Donna Sue Atkins, if she would marry me. She said Yes.
Also: Donna Sue and I are old-school Hippies at heart. The classic Peace sign, faintly depicted at upper left, is said to be a meld of the semaphore letters D and N, to symbolize Disarmament Now. We believe that worldwide Disarmament would be a giant leap toward a sustainable civilization. So please, dear readers, think of the last word in the poem, Disarms, as having a double meaning.
alarm! alarm! and out of a bent sleep the traveler jolts
shuffles to the bathroom while the blear clears
takes the set aside pills flosses brushes shaves
peels t-shirt over his head and off into the hamper
pulls baggy underwear to knees and draws knees together for the underwear to fall to the floor
grabs underwear with toes and drops them into the hamper
steps past the bathroom mirror with an “ugh!” and carefully steps over the bathtub edge and pulls the shower curtain closed and positions his head to shield his body from the initially-cold spray and pulls the faucet lever counterclockwise and pulls the switch-to-shower knob up and cold spray hits his head with a bit of over spray on his belly and he gasp-inhales a little
but the water quickly pleasantly warms and he squeezes shampoo onto his hand and smears it onto his head
then ivory-soaps his body with special attention to armpits genitals and feet (careful! use the corner for support! de-soap left foot then press sole-water firmly away before switching feet!!) and rinses and sways and rinses and lifts and rinses
turns shower off pushes knob down (it sticks) pulls curtain aside and carefully reaches for bath towel and flips towel like a jumprope and unmoistens back and sides and then carefully dries one leg foot perched on bathtub edge and then the other
then (carefully!! delicately!!) lowers a foot onto the bath mat with one hand on toilet-tank lid and the other on the wall
breathes a relief-sigh and steps out of the tub and combs hair dresses grabs backpack locks up goes to lobby calls a lyft cab arrives at airport obtains boarding passes at self-service kiosk walks to security checkpoint hands identification and passes to bluesuited agent places belt and pocket contents in gray bin steps into examination chamber forming the “a” of “ymca” is waved forward repockets rebelts finds the gate..
and here we are!
In the style of Ogden Nash, beloved poet of whimsy
Investigation of a bachelor’s refrigerator is akin to a visit to a Museum of Natural History,
Usually involving mustiness and baffling miscellany and gritty realism and a dollop of mystery,
But nobody will be there to adhere a visitor’s badge on us,
Nor will a docent explain that after some months of benign neglect, the contents of a bag of carrots become mucilaginous,
And since the mission is to clean and to come out as unscathed as possible it behooves us the custodian to arm ourself with scrubbies and a dish-soaped rag and an otherwise-never-used department store credit card for that which is excessively sticky,
And possibly an exorcist for that which is downright icky,
and which finds its way to the bottommost nook, cranny and cavity
Via the elegant mechanism of gravity.
A sizable, sturdy garbage bag will serve, Ladies and Mates,
To contain the many items that have passed by as much as a year their “Best Served By” dates.
The hours invested in this enterprise cannot exactly be called fun,
But darn if there isn’t a slight elation when it is finally done,
And we will be made even more glad
When we crack open the untouched bottle of vodka we forgot we had.
Loosely based on a true event
chicken chakra choker check
c h k is rife as heck
and among the heys and watch-mes
you might even find some tchotchkes.
chalk it up to odd occurrence
twixt agreement and demurrance
even when you kick the bucket
“chk!” may throatnoise when you chuck it.
that is all quite well and morbid
thirty wanted twenty-four bid
let us close with holstered trowels
“sm lst wrds my hv n vwls.”
Afterword: smh! 🙂 But the real goal was to use “tchotchkes” (first time ever in one of my poems) such that it contained an “Easter egg.”
Once upon a time a clumsy man dropped one of the many books he, foolish with optimism, was carrying, and when he bent his legs to try to retrieve it, two books, and then the rest of them, cascaded to the cobblestones. “Gosh darn,” said he, and, kneeling, began to restack them.
“Here,” said a voice. He looked up and saw a woman about his age, with one of the books that had slid afield. Her eyes were round and brown. Her hair was diaphanous.
When he took the book out of her hand she turned to retrieve the ones that were still left on the stones, but instead of handing them to him, she cradled them in her arms, schoolgirl style. “Where to?” she said, lightly, honey in her voice.
He did a head gesture, indicating direction, and said, “I’m parked a few rows up. Thanks so much for helping me.”
At his car, he carefully put his books on the hood, fished his car keys from his pocket, and opened the passenger-side door. She handed him the books she had, patting the one on top and saying, “I think you will love this one.” When she smiled at him he was awestruck. Without a word they had told each other that though she could use a ride, and he would love to give her one, it was not the right time.
But when he closed the door on the passenger side with the books in a neat pile on the seat, she handed him a business card that had the name of the bookstore where he’d bought the books, her name, the word M A N A G E R, and a phone number and e-mail address.
“Thanks for buying some of my books,” she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. “See you soon.” And she walked briskly away.
arrow
as you draw you cock your elbow
regulate your breath just so
rise and fall not slightest swell nor
oscillation made to roar
wssst! a bull’s eye! sweet as cocoa
In the commissary where I work, one priority is Speed. The restaurants want their prepared food, and they want it pronto. They will take Pretty Fast over Pretty every time.
This page is like that. I just had to get it done, and polishing it up would have cost me hours. Other pages will demand finesse; this one does not.
If Need Be
In a tough entangling web
It’s a time when your hopes ebb
Fear and hopelessness presage
Finding rescue–Draw that page
..
This Time
Take a number mon petit
Halve it with your bread and ghi
Infinitely numbers teem
Setting pace and mood and theme
..
Lean On Me
Let’s help each other grow and bloom
Engaging in opposing doom
And new horizons come to be
No nastiness that we can see
..
In the word balloons:
He: We NEED this…
She: …and it is Nice.
She: Tea & Ghi time!
He: …the Tripod…
She: …is mightier than the Stick.
He: Now let’s go…
She: .walking uphill…
They: …into the glorious sunset.
Sun: Crazy kids!
One with Clay, Image and Text 