Trattoria Italiana

table for one away from the kitchen back to the world not under the plants skylight’s too bright too much limoncello the fat lady farted plus twenty percent 07/87 – 0 5/17

Redecorating

still in love. you’d think that after all these years of forgetting I’d have finally gotten it right. can’t wait to forget you, to have that space in my memory match the hole in my heart. i’ve always hated dissymmetry.

ode to a decade of art (or, i wish i could push rewind)

ten years ago i took up the knife held it to my eye and with a flick felt it cut; just a trickle and a speck, though and the city barely felt it but it was reddish-blue, a royal hue (though lacking you) and i cut again, and often. four-score and seven years ago minus…

Good Jazz

The way to tell good jazz is that you don’t notice him till the song’s ‘most over. Good jazz sneaks up behind you and pulls down your shorts and then drinks your beer when you to turn to see what’s happening. You stumble and fall, wondering who did the dirty deed, and you look back,…

T’ree A.M.

It t’ree a.m. High I&I rakkle and roll, swing an’ sway, irie feelins t’ru de day. Night-a call, me sess a-blow, rakkle me brain now don’ cha know. It t’ree a.m., me reggae flow, bounce ‘pon de train an’ mek we go. T’ru dem tunnel, out de side, down we block, so me can hide….

Handful of Blues

Monday Night is blues Night so I wrote you a song that go something like dis. I was born with the blues in my hand. I thought it was a flesh axe, but it was a silent guitar that only played one note. If you’d been there, I’d have sung it for you, but I…

Bad Poetry from my Youth #2

Never Go Back You can never go back except for when you do. Her eyes still kiss his softly, secret — never ends A vision of youth ten years fade — never werer. Lines grow lighter, lighter, love is young, and bold, and proud… reborn. Hairline stretech, reaches forward (afro blowing in the wind) stretch…

Miss dePoint

dried grasslands wave thin arms dancing — a concert to which poets are not invited. their conductor flares; crescendo to follow answered in nodding consent. brown-armed orchestra rises; western winds sing harmonies. poets write of hummingbirds. August 1986

Bad Poetry from my Yout’ #1

I’ve decided to start a new feature because … boredom. I have tons of really bad poetry from my yout’, which I shall inflict upon youse unsuspecting bloggers. Paying the Piper I tried to explain to the gas company why I couldn’t pay the bill and still feed the kids but, I realized I couldn’t…

Mumuration

murmuration convocation incantation o’er the nation rise above the situation fibrillation, elongation, deformation, oscillation, emulate a cloud formation, pull apart, then reformation. inundation, fascination, eliminate the infestation. tabulation, information, vacillation, valuation. calculation, cogitation, cannot fathom situation. cancellation, consternation, ruminate without cessation, call my goddess for advice, only points to their ovation. no idea, no information…

iDon’t

i wonder if you’d mind if i traded a thousand of your likes for a single smile. would it offend you, could i be unfriended for my antisocially friendly request? i wonder if you’d hear me over the tip-tapping sound your phone makes as you abbreviate our interactions. i reckon not, you see, because though…

Cycles

I posted the latter of these two poems on this blog around 18 months ago, but I thought I’d post both of them to show how writing styles might change, while leaving the writer beneath intact. Cycles, 2013 darkness wails in windswept winter white with dust and frosted dew broken branches, barely bother scraping daytime…