by your leaves
by your leaves we can tell it is autumn
in an early and savory season
and it’s two months till winter’s rock bottom
and for bundling there’s not much a reason
we can tell that it’s calm and unquizzical
and that seasonal changes abide
so we revel in that we are physical
with our senses along for the ride
a single tear escapes his eye.
some of it evaporates,
some is absorbed by his pillow, and the rest
is a thin encrustation of salt.
..
his grip on the bedrail is weak.
the rail feels like the javelin
he wielded and hurled 70 years ago.
he can still remember the moment of release,
that perfect throw with all his muscles in sync,
and the certainty in that moment that his javelin
would sail beyond all others.
his suffering is eased by that memory.
..
minutes later he is not suffering at all
as a telemetric line streams across a screen
like a javelin hurled into the Infinite.
activity streaker
my AI is passive-aggressive
when hesheit ells me
and the subtext is content creator, you are falling down on the job
nagging me softly with this notification
to produce produce PRODUCE
but i must not produce worthless content
for there is already an overabundance
of online timewasters and other trash
..
the being of an activity streaker may entertain
given sufficient nakedness and/or relevance
so let’s run naked to local news/weather/sprouts
..
the chemical leak in toledo
was due to some heat in a tank
thank goodness we dodged that torpedo
and have good responders to thank
..
it’s sunny and crisp on our ave
and our sts and our rds are the same
but mention a crcl
a wiseacre jerk’ll
for this whirled series
say winter is coming, for shame
..
take your dog to the mill for a walkie
and of happy-storms be a good brewer
be poets like horace
and sing like a chorus
of giulio neris
is half a sweep and pleasant-shocky
and a good-faith-in-baseball renewer
..
to make this a good quick streak it should be a “One-minute read.” how’d we do?
we are not our best selves when sleep-deprived
not our most capable selves when falling asleep,
or coming up from sleep
and so as i seek sleep
i ask
may sleep not elude
may no one intrude
as i stumble into my slumber
and may it be peaceful
as lambwool is fleeceful
and slow-dance that morpheus number
having asked
and having visited the bathroom
and having visited darkness
on the bedroom
with a pull of
the lamp
switch,
now i
lay me
down
This card is the back of a grocery list that was jam-packed. The one item on this side, “ice cream,” was written by my cohabitant Donna and then embellished by me. The rest of the card was done while Donna was getting her hair done at Great Clips.
Shop Till U Drop (top)
Star dud
Hip spur
Older duo
Plaid soup
..
Shop Till U Drop (bottom)
Stray spud
Hilltop hour
OLPH in vacuo
Platelets up
..
I grew up in Glendale, Arizona. There was an Our Lady of Perpetual Help downtown, and on a few occasions the Bowers family went to Bingo Night at OLPH. I was under the delusion, that young, that there was such a thing as psychic powers, and I tried to exert my will such that my family would win the Coverall For a Thousand Dollars If You Got It In Fifty Numbers Or Fewer. “OLPH in vacuo” translates to “Our Lady Perpetual Help in a vacuum.”
from the heart of spirited japan
come kami-kaze
and anime
and the investment of souls
unto wind and cartoon
..
fables tell of magic swords with personalities
excalibur
glamdring
stormbringer
and last last one was itself soul-vampiric
..
even in my own soul-tepid culture
i was urged to give my automobile a name
and when i named her celeste i gave her gender too
though she may be closeted
(garaged?)
..
this seems to me to be proof
of the existence of gods
in the form of human minds
creating stories out of nothingness
..
even at breakfast it happened
two pieces of dark rye toast became brothers
one favoredly anointed with strawberry preserves
one bare of all but butter
and a bite taken out of him by his Creator
who saith, “my son, you too are valuable,
for you help My Senses calibrate Reality.”
and otherslice replied
“ow.
that hurts.”
our vision is binocular
unless one eye goes bad
the one-eyed jack looks jocular
the one-eyed knave a cad.
..
my left eye now perceives a smudge
so close it and sight clarifies
in closing, give eye health a nudge
so earthly vision rarefies.
..
On my recent drive from Toledo to Phoenix I found that my left eye was seeing in soft focus, as if a thin film of Vaseline was on the lens. Blinking rapidly seems to de-smudge it somewhat. I hope it’s nothing serious.
..
wake yawn turn rise
..
brew up some coffee
review plans take pills
evacuate shower shave
have a nice breakfast
..
embark on a one-day journey into sanity
right a minor wrong or two for uneff sake
reflect reflect renew and cancel selectively
indulge for you will never be more capable
own up to failure and other culpability (bathe)
see feel taste listen discern earn learn unburn
enjoy the sunset and anticipate the sunrise
wind down with inclusion of a loving message
duskdream about a fun tomorrow as you drowse
..
“Unfolderol” is Unfold folded into Folderol. When I started composing this poem I remembered fondly my teenaged reading of Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey and Clarke’s notion of the monoliths having precise dimensions of 1:4:9, with the fillip that fourth and further dimensions would continue the exponential sequence. From there, with that simple template of unfolding dimensions, I chose increasingly nuanced lines for each of the three stanzas, implying that more stanzas may exist beyond senses or cognition. (And Stanza 1 is one line, 2 is four, 3 nine.)
Why Folderol, which can mean “cheap trinket”? Well, the hope is that close inspection, I.e. unfolding, of quotidian life might reveal profundity when taken or perceived in a higher dimension.
..
funny isn’t everything
fitness is essential
fireworks ignite effortlessly
flame: it’s existential
..
you cannot say re-fi and not say fie
you cannot say stomachic without stum
and if you are defiant
and try theft against a giant
he’ll decry you with a fie mid fee foh fum
..
I was going to add a sonnet
but i’m lazy
fie upon it
..
grace notes of domestic love
her sleep is fitful owing some to a creaky knee
her man rises and exits the bedroom without sound
and then in the kitchen adds the gentle noises
of the early-morning chores of kitchen-bag disposal
(crinkly pulling up of bag
unlocking and opening back door
quite faint sound of deposit in big lidded bin outside
closing/locking door then swish out of new bag
closing little lidded bin with authoritative whmph)
and coffee-making
(lid-lifting/reservoir-filling/filter-snugging
store-brand coffeebag-opening/spoon-dipping
lid-shutting/pressing I/O switch
with a startyourengines click
and then the burble of the coffee brewing
and dish-doing
with the mild clatter of the roasting pan
and the rainfall-effervescence of a sink filling
with soapy water with the faucet nozzle
set on Sprinkle/Highpressure
and the clink and scrubsqueak of ceramic bowls
washed and rinsed and set in the dish drainer
..
the man is hopeful that the sounds
of little tasks being taken care of
will ease his sweetheart’s sleep
and she does look peaceful
as she opens her eyes and smiles and they kiss
..
“want some coffee?”
