
After a five-year hiatus, today I resumed my n.e.s. series. I will be more consistent and frequent henceforth.

After a five-year hiatus, today I resumed my n.e.s. series. I will be more consistent and frequent henceforth.

Pillage
(First published in Facebook group Poets All Call)
(To the tune of “Go Ask Alice”)
One pill slows my heart down
One fights cholesterol
And the strange green and white capsule
Turns my leaks to waterfalls
Go ask doctors
If pill-popping’s right for you
Well, they say in the commercials
They can fix your RA quick
But the side effects they’ve listed
Make me stick with being sick
Is it malice
When Death is one side effect too?
Yes I do have constipation
And sometimes it makes me listless
But this crazed pill-popping nation
Is enough to scare me shitless
And I remember
What the man at the doormouth said
Blue or Red?
Blue or Red?

Morning Borning
My Spring Training / MLB
Optimizes Hope; lets see. O
Razzmatazz gives DOOM what for
Near-misses send it off with scorn
If circus tents provide a ring I
Netlessly make gaspers keen
Gained wisdom makes the harpers sing
..
Toe Tag
Ta-ta resort
O faulty aorta
Enigmas a-courting
..
Customer Feedback
Comfort meager; value half
Usher like a stoned giraffe
Service pure crap à la mode
Tidiness? A wreck untowed
Oversight done by a slob
Managed by a doornail’s knob. A
Euphemism played très chic
Refundable ’round Tuesday week


This morning I retrieved an unused sketchpad from upstairs and began a new page. There were three different-sized things on the dining room table and I used them to make three circles on the page. I sketched face in the uppermost circle intending to draw a world-weary author, female; it evolved into what looks like a slightly feminized version of Roy Thomas of comic-book legend.
At this writing I’ve surrounded the circles with three acrostic poem spines, “Morning Borning,” “Toe Tag” and “Customer Feedback.” Some dark grittiness seems to flavor the draft of “Toe Tag.” (I’ve just finished the ultraviolent and remarkable Cruddy by Lynda Barry, and just watched the quite-violent In a Lonely Place starring Humphrey Bogart. Cruddy paints a gritty, dark picture of a young person’s dysfunctional life; In a Lonely Place paints a gritty, dark picture of a talented, sought-after writer with a maniacal temper. Both were well worth experiencing but at intervals flat-out unenjoyable.)
I will probably try to finish this page as soon as I can and then move on to a new one, more simple, less busy, less dark.

cookie subverses
the cookie is not sentient
the cookie is inanimate
all it took was ingredients mixed
with expedience
sheeted and baked in the oven of what
but we say that the cookie is good
and we think it in some way benign
..
and the cookie sheet cools on the counter
and the fat man renounces his diet
seduced by aroma he
verges on coma
his ethos devolved to a riot
his fate is no question
entwined with digestion
senators: slouching-toward-jerusalem slouchy
in their slantways judgment of doctor fauci.
false flag, dazzle camouflage, crocodile verklempt,
they have displayed, and this wise deserve, contempt.

Aren’t We Lucky?
“I love you”
Between two lovers
May get said
A thousand times.
Today my love
And I exchanged
I Love Yous
But she looked
This time into
My damp eyes
And added this:
“Aren’t we lucky?”
We are indeed.

naught need caught freed lot
we were nothingness and then we coalesced
from nova to planetesimal to moms and dads to us
..
then we had need after need
air water nutrition shelter love purpose
..
we were shanghaied into school systems
some thrived in captivity some were warped
..
we were freed when we were graduated
or let slip
..
now we do not tempt fate for fate is indifferent
but we wonder what place we hold
and what will happen
and how long we have
..

Our next-door neighbor has done voluntary yardwork for Donna without being asked, and turns us down when we offer payment. But when I offered her a drawing of her favorite flower she said OK.

My endeavors as a pencil artist have been fraught with stutterstep start-stopping. It is only when I get stubborn that, rusty and arthritic as I am, I put in enough time on a single drawing to get beyond the teeth-clenching frustration and into some true joy, building tones and feeling the image stir with life.
This drawing was only supposed to take a day or so, but I kept hesitantly scratching at it, almost throwing it away a couple of times. Now the graphite is finally beginning to cooperate, and the path to completion has clarified. Three or four more hours ought to do it, maybe, depending how the erasure phase goes.
Glad to be back yet again. Here’s hoping the next few days see a new, different drawing well started.