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Monthly Archives: January 2022

Melodrama Fatale

Angel, do you see me?
 Angel, do you care?

I'm lost. Our bed is empty
without your downy wings
to nestle in

You spread them,
but not for me
our forest cabin dream 
morphed into a succubus
of clammy night sweats

Angel, with autumn leaves in your hair, 
you were my oak tree muse.
but now an empty scrunched pillow

hope for us was strangled 
in your darkening feathers when
I fell without you
forever


 
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Posted by on January 26, 2022 in Poetry

 

Winter Melt -Haiku

Icicles sparkle

dripping sun-drops to the ground

against the blue sky




 
 
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Posted by on January 25, 2022 in haiku, Poetry

 

Time Travelers -Haiku

Traveling through time

the illusion of control

is shattered daily



 
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Posted by on January 25, 2022 in haiku, Poetry

 

Comp -Haiku

A florid writer
penned snow and ice on the trees
not their bestseller


 
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Posted by on January 24, 2022 in haiku

 

Ubix

On Ubix, a billion light-years from earth, lives an issue of blob-like creatures of diverse colors. Because the Ubixians have pea-sized gelatinous brains, they believed their gods cursed the yellow blobs. (no one knew how this rumor began). The greens make up the elite stratum, being considered high-born.

The inhabitants are yellow or green on their pink planet, with a million shades between. Yet they developed an elaborate practice of favoring or disfavoring each other depending on their greenish or yellowish hue. They told proverbs that directed their offspring to accept their chromatic lot in life. Parents of globby greens would make annual sacrifices to the Ubixian gods, praying that their offspring would grow up solely to slime with other greens. The gods forbid that a yellow should slide in.

Folklore has it the chief god of Ubix visited incognito as one of them. It took on a yellow blob form. The greens and many yellows (those who capitulated to the cultural lies) rejected the yellow appearing god-glob. The cloaked god was both amused and saddened by the blind ignorance of the planet’s occupants. After all, it had produced them as both colors. The olive and yellow officers nabbed the god, who appeared to be just a no-count yellow blob, and squished the yellow ooze out of it until it died.

But a god blob can’t stay flat, so it reconstituted itself and went back to its celestial home. Now, if any Ubixian realizes they are both yellow and green at their core–(just like the god-blob), they are ready to molt. These uplifted blobs expand into a new continuation where neither yellow, green, nor any other distinction could isolate them. They are on equal foot stems, connected to the god blob, and precursors of Ubixian cultural insight.










1.3

 
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Posted by on January 24, 2022 in Poetry

 

At Home -Haiku

Lion cubs are shrimps
dependency is safety
home includes a roar



 
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Posted by on January 23, 2022 in haiku

 

The Cut

She was thirty-three 
with long feathery black and red-dyed hair
rail-thin with a long nose
my hairstylist 
used to be called a barber

often, you get a five-minute quicky
astounded why it now costs twenty bucks
tip not included 

- but
she took her time
talked about her five kids - clip clip snip
her mom isn't exasperated by her anymore - comb clip
or her two-month separation
from a second husband with issues - clip snip clip
her ulcerative colitis

she eats and goes often - faster snips
(the excessive combing is scraping my scalp to shreds)
she passed out at work last week
not sleeping and eating tons of ramen noodles - comb comb
snip clip snip - sniff

Now I'm as old as dirt - 
probably older than her father
but worked up the pluck to offer her my number
she refused it politely -- 

thanked me for the compliment
(the noise of my head being vacuumed)
 
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Posted by on January 21, 2022 in Poetry

 

Not About You

You demanded that I not write about you anymore, but how shall I not sing of a category five hurricane rooting up a cottage home? How shall I not return an eagle's voice to a quivering heart torn to shreds? 

How shall I not yowl like a freak hit with a silver bullet? Can I be quiet when the mallet-driven stake impales the chest or silent before the face of the cat nibbling off wriggling parts of the mouse before the kill?

No, I can't write you. Who were you anyway? -- indeed, not the person I imagined -- more like the widow accommodating its mate before becoming scarfed down as her next naked lunch.

I fell for your well-crafted act, not for the puppeteer above the porcelain doll, so how do I not write poetry of my downfall into the horny pit of a polished pretender who assumes this yarn is all about them?



 
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Posted by on January 18, 2022 in Poetry

 

It’s Easy, Or It’s Not

Though standing behind the picture books, I saw you
that October night with a ghoulish moon,
a glimpse of who as the glass doors opened
of a voluptuous figure passing through?

The snippet of an online photo couldn't say.
Like a scratched-off lottery ticket,
the wasted unmatching don't pay.

Where did my rising hope dock from?
Or you, another narcotic chemistry?
The awkward moment wafted away
when the lips fit a stellar time

your eyes outshone the need for deducing
setting an old salt sailor at ease
to tease.
 
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Posted by on January 18, 2022 in Poetry

 

Is in the House

The Cheering Flame
The Focus of the Seated
The Music of unrelenting Prayer
The Presence is already here

That Silent Light
That All-Seeing Face
That Rapturous Meditation
That draws us to You

The Hourglass stalls
The Sands are standing still
In One eternal Moment
The Eyes are blazing still

And Now you Know
And so do I,
And never more the same
Gazing  at the Flame





 
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Posted by on January 17, 2022 in Poetry