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 . . .

Bouncing off
every riot shield
Waxing gibbous moon

Riot police
an unbroken line of 
overhead geese

The solo sound of a
tear gas canister

Heat lightning-
The flash of her tongue
On my nipple

A single blossom
amongst shining leaves
Her bare shoulder

Her eyelashes
A rise and fall just
before the beach

Her new lipstick
His barely sipped glass
Of Cabernet

Spring Rain
Keeping both of us awake
wet spot

Half moon
The sudden sharpness
Of her nails

Bumble bee
Its unsettling buzz
tattoo gun

Her lashes
The only things
I shadow

Staff meeting
I now become Chairman
of the bored

Poker game
After we shake
The strength of his hand

Sudden downpour
Praying it still seals
Cheap Condom

Even the silences
Are cool




Old piano
One by one
My teeth desert me

Learning about the bamboo
from the bamboo
Baby panda

Spring sprinkle
The gutters fill with
Cherry blossoms 

Puff of smoke
The Four Twenty Express 

Material Sacrifice
My son teethes on
the black knight

I hum the theme from

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 converse with
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 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
with 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

Morning fog
A Prius creeps up
on little cat's feet

Calvary Baptist
All the shrubs and trees
in their Easter outfits

April sunrise
A single drop of blood
on a light blue tile

Swearing to God
The presiding judge
bangs his knee

Evening sunset
A bridge rivet surrounded
by rust

Full moon
The silent O of 
the pistol's muzzle

Summer heat
Pigeon feathers flutter
from a hawk's beak

strewn about the beach
Sunbather's legs

Three little girls
Twirling in pink tutus
Cherry Blossoms

Up late
buzzsaws cutting into
the silence

Too many
Students who missed
the syllabus

The gardener
switches her radio
to Al Green

Not New York's finest
that gardenia in her hair
Strange Fruit on her lips

With a quick-blown kiss
she high heels her way into
the Etheridge night

April morning
A male Cardinal lands
on fleek

Up late
buzzsaws cutting away
the silence

Prison workshop
The killer tries to erase
his mistake

Lorton Prison
The length of a sentence
of its echo

The kick
in her curried shrimp
in her belly

Diner waitress
The arches in her eyebrows
in her feet

Memorial Day
The flag on her fingernails
on her mantelpiece 

Half moon
beneath her eye
Blue black

Sugar Sphinx
my mother loses her
Sweet tooth

April night
A man handling a snake
In the sky

April morning  
lilac petals land

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.)