Thursday, April 23, 2015

Day #23 : 'do not seek to really know me'

Take a deck of cards ... any cards, shuffle and pick one. Free-write for five minutes without stopping, then take what's written and create a poem. 

as long as there is one cup standing 
nectar full in this half light 
one cup standing 
crescent moon's night 
there stands a chance 
a spark of hope's romance 
to shed the fable 
to reveal the able man 
winged & wounded 
sieved from soul 
winged & betrayed 
half not whole 
my darling Eros who knew
beyond shadows slumber 
it was you .... 
in moonlight's pale 
incandescence unveiled 

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Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Day #22 : life on a minimum maintenance road

a pastoral poem 

tethered to earth 
we bind to our life 
often we're fooled 
to pursuits more divine 
arguing with gods
our pain and our fate 
we long to make sense of
the weight of the ache 

here on the dirt road 
life just shines thru 
dust on our lips 
sky overhead a deep azure blue 
here on the dirt road 
love is everything 
youth is a fable 
the wind knows your name 

plum bushes bloom 
in ditches defined 
pink & white blossoms 
(the jam tastes sublime!)
milo & coneflowers 
ditch weed & broom 
sunflowers & aspargus 
in this quarter-mile prairie room 
a thousand head of cattle 
graze on fescue & rye 
cranes swoop off the river 
filling the sky 
horses peer nonchalantly 
from oak avenues 
there's a haunted old church 
with ghosts in its pews 
wild iris unfolds 
in the afternoon light 
clover clusters in hollows 
held bittersweet tight 
a meadowlark's song 
escapes from a nest 
the moon rises up 
to compass the west 
deer come to fields 
thick with willow & elm 
evening drops it's blackness 
stars overwhelm 

but here on this dirt road 
love just shines on 
dust on our lips 
pale blue waits for the dawn 
here on the dirt road 
life is everything 
youth is a fable 
the wind knows your name 

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Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Day #21 : stranded

an erasure: taking an existing text and erasing words, while leaving then placement of the remaining words intact.

                                       For          the loveliest     the saddest
                                            drawn    one          time                  
                                                                               then disappeared
                                             Look                         carefully      be

                                                     to pass by 
                                                          Wait               under the star!
                                         questions        know               this 
                                                                         let me go 
                                                 Send word 
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Monday, April 20, 2015

Day #20 : savoir

a poem that states the things I know ....

I know returning Sandhill Cranes mean Spring 
 ... the pewter darkness of clouds bring thunder
what lives must die
I know the rip of broken hearts sunder 

I know the timeless April breeze 
... the smell of my fathers cologne 
I know the taste of you on my tongue 
that the sun on my face means home 

I know the deep magic bound in a book 
... that music fuels my soul 
what goes around comes around 
I know how sorrow takes a toll 

I know the wicked weaving of knowing 
... the rush of cool to hot 
I know the firework love of a child 
that the price of love is sought 

you know this rhyme is an ouroboros 
forever chasing the true 
just as I'm sure I have it 
another known fragment comes through 

so I'll close before I linger
before knowing is cheapened by more 
the only thing I know for certain 
knowing is an open door 

I know the beauty of simple things 
... the light of the sun and moon 
I know that love is the everything 
and that the cranes are gone by June .... 

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Sunday, April 19, 2015

Day #19 : ssshh .... راز

to write a landay; a 22-syllable couplet, generally ryhming

give me a man of warm heart and hand 
knowingly tends open each blue ache understands 

piercing my blue veins of stubborn skin
with curiosity and rye whiskey dreamed sin 

not to be gamed controlled by your will 
but tended tendered by sure hands topping my fill 

surrender eminent pink shine breach 
no call to calm violet borders caging my reach 

take this man to your gods shining bright 
tuck me to spring's hallowed bed this waxing night  

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Day #18 : Parallax

a poem that involves an urgent journey and important message 
( I intended to go rogue and just write in the moment but my moment was sort prompted by a journey and there is a message!) 

it rounds the corner at lightening speed
i am thunder years behind it 
counting ...
one mississippi two mississippi three mississippi
three thousand years away
i have missed the boat
missed the point
let go of the ball
no runs no outs 
no sighting of halley's comet 
no rabbit hole 
no bull by the horn
no skipping the light fantastic 
the ship sailed
chickens have flown the coop 
elvis has left the building 
.... with no inking of lines about the twilight & tail lights leading me home 
passing storms radio romance the smell of wild iris trains and rain 
it's escaping running away to join the circus the rodeo or outward bound
while wearing a jaunty moss green beret flipping me the finger flying backwards 
turkey vultures circle to pick up the hat and pick word bones dry of related cosmic matter 
rejoicing in my return to felted silence 
fuck writers block 
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Friday, April 17, 2015

Day #17 : call to ink

a "social media" - style poem ,,,,

too much in-put no out-put stasis stunned by the float of information too much too much never enough time never enough #ticktock#norestfortheweary#eatme#drinkme#readme no sink to sinew no hyacyinth fingers dripping dancing anxious with the need to write write write words to life to breath these parceled ink fragments aching aching for the carousel ride carnival ride top-down car ride pony ride under moonlight the furthest damn thing from tweets and tinder give me midnights over a thousand followers over the updates and notifications give me solace from the doldrums of too much in-put give me my muse calling at mid-day as blue jays echo through the neighborhood give me 
a simple white page for ink and memory .... #writeme #openme 

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