A haiku today, the second of slight illness (on top of all the parts of me which don’t seem to want to work right). It’s OK. I think it just started raining, and I know I’ll mostly be just chillin’ tomorrow when my wife has one of those procedures all of us old people get….
man with cat on lap
pet each other—happiness.
nubbins on his pants
58/100
Almost every day, he said, my
glass seemed more than half full,
but a fly would dance on top. When
we came into home, winging away
from sunset, I saw one cloud-like
nuclear explosion. My trip's
symbolic, beautiful resolution.
57/100
Different voices have defined “found” poems differently. Here, I started with the opening line of a poem I drafted over a dozen years ago, then used random web pages to suggest a few words from which would spring the next line. I let whatever revealed itself in my creative half exist without immediately squashing it, merely shaping it, translating it from my interior language-without-words to a poor imitation in English. My Editor insisted on punching meaning into it, which I allowed. At the end I decided it needed to come full circle, thus lending meaning (I hope) to the final lines. In a way, this process worked similarly to something I’m getting ready to post (non-poem) when time allows.
We wear patchwork clothes, stitched by sadness
not to have seen snow leopards through our
blizzarding genesis. Inspired by writings we
don't understand, we personalize them
to make everything obtain meaning
where none existed. Welcome to your mission:
to drive home meaning to others while
pathetically struggling to find your own,
exhibiting your confidence which betrays
your lack of understanding. "the mic is yours,
Ken," as if he thinks I'm important. Games,
games fill cracks left when motive, meaning
dried up. More valuable than playing? Being.
Staying within where we find nothingness
imbuing everything-ness. Boldly facing it
without doing, comfortable in this. Yet,
in here we wear patchwork clothes,
satisfied they're stitched by sadness.
56/100
People become semi-strangers over
time, distance, lack of shared
experience. Reacquaintance
brings pain, ripping some kind of
bandage from maintained relationship.
I can't pull this string-can telephone
any tighter due to Earth's curvature,
certainly not through Einstein's
space-time fabric bending thingy.
I want old things to pop from
just-opened cans, fresh, familiar,
just as tasty as before. Is that
too much for me to ask?
55/100
Schism—that beautiful word.
Listen to it! Hear it?
Ripping through what once lived
whole? Its glorious "skuh"
scissoring toward schoolish "ism".
Feel its sanctimonious
surety? How pulling
apart gives one purpose,
direction, somewhere to
stand? So much easier
than moving toward that
Other Force. Loosening
rather than tightening.
Accepting difference
without judgment. Giving
SCHISM nowhere to live.
There's a reason those
yin/yang symbols have those
oppositely colored spots.
54/100
“Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheat’ed?”
—Johnny Rotten on “No Fun (excerpts)” from Troublemakers, an anthology album
This should be my
second childhood.
I remember
childhood, or I
think I do. Days
shimmered, each one
full of promise:
unbounded time,
more valuable
than gold, silver.
Complaints only
when I heard THAT
call: "time to come
in"—"time for bed,
young man"—"c'mon
it's time for church".
I still rail, still
complain to The
Adult, but he
lives in my head
now. I want to
subcontract my
adulthood so
I can play through-
out my adult
childhood. This role
requires timely
attention to
details of my
life without one
whit of bother
to me...ah, but
then I would need
to hire someone
to watch that first
one. Where would it
end? No, better
to restrain my
adulthood to
its bare, needful
minimum, let
my child command
ev'rything else.
51/100
This poem would have been way cooler posted on August 18th when it meant more. I drafted it near midnight, and couldn’t bring myself to polish it, find a photo, etc, until today.
Penultimate:
bridesmaid
celebrated faintly.
Always announcing
never announced.
John the Baptist to
Jesus the Messiah.
Loved by writers
For its erudition.
Why this focus on
opening act before
The Headliner? Who
decided this needed
a word? Why mark
the race's last mile?
Today we trot you out
to perform yet again
your ultimate function:
forty-ninth of fifty,
thus almost halfway.
Thank you, you're done.
49/100
A bit trite and a bit short, but this will have to do today. An Irish stout has designs on my mind!
Adrift, but found
my course plotted
without my ken,
without approval.
Yet when my course
pointed me to
where I'm now,
I found this port,
suited me just fine.
47/100
Twice in two days my wife has caused me to take a good photograph. Yesterday it was, “whale! there!” and I snapped the photo that graced today’s poem. It was one of those point-shoot-hope-you-have-it-pointed-right kind of things. Today almost occurred the same way. She pointed to a swooping bird and asked, “Is that an eagle?” Yes, it was, and thankfully I resisted the urge to zoom in with the telephoto. I don’t think I could have captured the bird otherwise. Better to zoom in the editing phase. (Thank you, digital darkroom!) Not that I didn’t zoom, but the above photo represents only 50-60% of the original.
In another poem I’ll try to convey this weird feeling I have that a pretty decent vacation isn’t going that well. This moodiness infects me on quite a few vacations, and I joyfully welcome all the times I just seem to go with the flow and have a great time, despite inevitable setbacks. It seems enjoying yourself takes precedent to enjoying the vacation. Today, I’m just trying to capture today.
Another paradisiacal day
surrounded by memories,
good, bad, indifferent.
golf, tantalizing money suck;
couldn't do it now anyway.
constant gray weather
wearing her down,
then wearing me down.
whales! no, just rocks.
but birds: familiar,
strange, tiny, grand.
trip's end trips up more
often than not. "What
do you want to do?"
"I dunno. What do you?"
Bumper-to-bumper others
live out their dream while
we duck into breweries.
No dinner plans almost
equals no dinner. "What
should we do tomorrow?"
46/100
