Tuesday, March 31, 2015

NaPoMo 30 for Thirty 2015

Well, it's that time of year again wherein your intrepid hero writes one poem for each day of National Poetry Month and hopes 2 or 3 of them are worth keeping. As in year's past they will mostly be haiku, Senryu and other short forms, although not necessarily. Also, as before I'll be updating this post throughout the month. You should feel free to leave your own haiku in the Comments. So here we go . . .

Rap video
The thick legs of
the TV stand

The aftertaste of 
Sixth Grade German

Smoke above
the volcano on Fogo
Grandfather's glare

First of April
The wind rolls a butt
around the tray

Bathroom mirror
All this new gray
almost time to die

An old navy veteran
reads Melville 

Have you always had that
Question Mark

I say seventeen
she eyes my feet

Poker game
A Russian guy tables
his AK

Busted Brackets
A Cardinal hops to
a higher branch

Blood moon
The red speck dotting
her eye

Blood Moon
The traffic light refuses
to change

Blood Moon
the rising sound
of a siren

Her hand
Learning when to hold it
when to fold it

Low tide
Footprints filling with
goose tracks
in a muddy field
Ancient cuneiform

This piece of mine
My Republican cousin 
loves homophones

Low tide
The beach too has a
receding hairline

The nurse searches your arm
in vain

Crayons on the wall

Winter sun
Ducking to avoid the glare

Beams of sunshine ignite
rain drops

lighting up her face

Serena fires
A two handed backhand

Full moon 
Our infant son's eyes 
refuse to close 

Morning fog
last night's wine clouds 
the tongue

Welcome Mat
just inside the door
Her tongue

about the pine from
The Coach

Two queens 
alongside the board
Chess Widows

A Queen Sacrifice
call from the wife

Big Bluff
The bettor tells his girlfriend 
only one more hand

Pawn to King four
My opponent opens
his paper bag

Call to prayer
The stopped bus hisses

My last line
written in blood
Paper cut

Low Tide
The ocean also gets
Morning Breath

Good buy
She said after reviewing
my purchase

Kanye West
Swaying a Boardwalk speaker
hot gusting wind

Red horizon
Pigeon feathers flutter
from a hawk's beak

Drug dealer's name
Dripping down a brick wall
Fresh snow

Sunday afternoon
At the poker table
I lose my religion

Casino exit
My shadow keeps moving
further ahead

Evening sunset
A bridge rivet flooded
by rust

Swearing to God
The presiding judge
bangs his knee

Full moon
The silent O of 
the pistol's muzzle

Back alley
A rat laps rain
from an eggshell

And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)

Friday, March 27, 2015


I will definitely be doing a poem a day this year for National Poetry Month (NaPoMo) and will add an extra twist this year. Be sure to check out the April 2015 issue of POETRY magazine, there's a lot of strong work there from the forthcoming Breakbeat Poets anthology. Having said that, here's a poem or two . . .

Morning fog
The smell of coffee

Waddling in
V shaped tracks
flock of geese 

To and fro
in this Sandy wind-
Stop Sign

Lynchburg Virginia-
The body of a black boy
under a white sheet

Vernal Equinox-
Half the eggs spill
the carton

Vernal Equinox-
Her glass eye 
half full

Poker game
The winner stacks up
his lies

So many happy sounds
from the machines

In the bushes
The smell of beer
before and after

Hand on chin
The Portrait watches Zoe

And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)

Friday, March 20, 2015

Friday Follies 20 MAR 15

Black Byrd
swinging in the dead of night
Take those broken wings . . .

Mississippi rain
Half nod of a Byrd
hanging from a tree



Among twenty rainy trees,   
The only hanging thing   
Was the body of the black Byrd.


The black Byrd swung in the winter wind.   
It was the Final Act of the pendulum. 


The rope and the tree
Are one.   
The rope and the tree and the black Byrd   
Are one.


I do not know which to infer,   
A body of shadows   
Or a body of light,   
The black Byrd hanging   
Or just before.


Raindrops fill the window   
With savage reflections.
The body of the black Byrd
Crosses it, to and fro.
The moon
An inexplicable cause.


It was midnight all day.   
It was raining   
And it was going to reign.   
The black Byrd swung
In the locust-limbs.

And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Tuesday Tidbits 17 MAR 15

My heart is battered. 
What kind of oil is best 
to fry it in?

Evening sun
Unrolling the Prayer Rug
A ghazal

Mouse in the bathtub
I can dance

Fourteenth of March
Today's Pi is not

Winter wind
Halfway across the lot

Snowy field-
One by one the crunch
of geese

There once was a Coxswain named Borringe, 
who openly inspected his sporange, when surprised by his Skipper,  
it got caught in his zipper, 
turning him six shades of orange.

Tuesday, March 03, 2015

Tuesday Tidbits 20 Feb 15

The saxophonist's head

Scimitar moon-
Silently counting
the scars

Up all night
around and around the house
Winter Wind

Polar Vortex-
The subzero whiteness of
the toilet seat. 

Snow drifts-
Marshmallows in one
side of the mug

Snowy field
Crossing to the other
side of the tracks

And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Tuesday Tidbits 17 Feb 15

Valentine's Day-
The Poker Room couch
filled with women

Valentines Day-
The Ebb Tide's
slow tease

Fiftieth birthday-
Breath taken away by a
trickling stream

Fifty-fifth birthday-
The Brown Thrasher may be
going extinct

Low Winter sun
Sharp glare from a neighbor's

Snow storm 
The silent softness of a 
wool blanket

Winter sunset
A husband and wife with
matching walkers

Snow forecast
I grab another bottle
of dandruff shampoo

And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)

Sunday, February 15, 2015

V-Day Follies

Valentine's Day-
In the corner of her eye
his smile

And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)