30 Poems in 30 Days (Redux)

[playcatch]

7

And all the science I don't understand
is just my job 5 days a week

R0cketman burning down Avalon
picks up the slipper I left on wet cobbles

leaves the shattered heel
but pricks

bleeds on the stalking avenue
and I follow his blood trail back

claiming our dues
we slip inside

 

[Angeline]

5-25

Kind of Fib

Blue
wakes
easy
rhythm first
stage set for Miles
and his holy modal trumpet
like Gabriel blows
heaven blue
steady
straight
on.

 

[playcatch]

8

Silent fell the moon
sending before it
all its tiny feathers

so softly we landed
melted through

eyes and eyelids
delicately kissed
breath swirls up

expanding heaven

 

[Angeline]

5-26

Twelfth Night Fib

The
rain
raineth
ev'ry day
sings Festa the clown
who knows predictability
is fleeting as fluff
on flowers,
or days
or
years.

 

[playcatch]

9

Hour of Government Meeting

minutes passed
around with the agenda

everyone had to sign in
accountable to the new old gamekeeper

at the end of the blather
the timekeeper called the meeting met

chimed bright all grateful eyes
at the timekeeper's diligent watch

 

[Angeline]

5-27

TMMC Gratitude Fib

I
am
thankful
for ten years--
wild adventures
of laughter, stories, poetry,
your sweet worried smile,
comforting
arms oh
your
eyes.

 

[playcatch]

10

National Day of Mourning

Your rubbings leave gross
graphite inexactments.

Beauty is faster than hatred
weighted by rifle.

I drop every engraved bullet--
swing a vine avenue over.

 

[playcatch]

11

Complaints about one's weather are mundane
for every air must bear its dry and wet--
too much of either drives a man insane.

Eschew umbrella, dance into the rain.
The drops drank long ago revive you yet.
Complaints about the weather are mundane.

Forget the midnight flasks of shallow pain
tattooing skin you bared. Never regret.
Too much of that can drive a man insane.

A field of wheat is carried in one grain
as golden as the hair in her barrette.
Complimenting weather makes it vain.

The wise old birds fly 'round legerdemain
preferring pirate clews to anisette.
Too much of either drives a man insane.

Affection over miles can be sustained
as handily as one might win roulette.
Complaints about one's fucking luck: mundane.
Too much wishing drives a man insane.

 

[Angeline]

5-28

Prosaic Yet Thoughtful Fib

All
these
things you
used to do
renew insurance
check oil honey do this or
sweetie that are all
on me now
I am
more
you.

 

[playcatch]

12

precious lofty house held me
fixed within its bars
spelled to hold from old debris--
busted up guitars

finally I left the braided
ring you bought to pair
what you wore when you thought more
but more was never there

precious lofty house held me
now I live in trees
flying tight and nesting close
as any proper bee

 

[Angeline]

5-29

Blue Variation Fib

I
start
then end
each day in
jazz as if to pray
to the relentless empty blues
that color my sky,
beautiful
even
when
dark.

 

[playcatch]

13

November night cools
the warmest kiss from my lips
leaving just the song

 

[playcatch]

November night cools
the warmest kiss from my lips
leaving just the song

 

[Angeline]

5-30

Damon Runyan Bedtime Stories Fib

Dad
you
read me
those stories--
guys, their dolls, Harry
the Horse, Nicely Nicely Johnson,
tricksters like Izzie--
cityscapes,
blankets
of
words.

I'd
dream
of red
green street scenes,
wise guys, gardenias
in the spot and oh the music--
sweet, blue hot.
Scrunch
down.
you'd
say.

 

[playcatch]

fourteen

Chestnuts, he told me, are low calorie
as we peel them like Lychee fruit
in his mother's dining room.

The sweet smell clings
to the scarf of his dead wife

which matched my coat when he gave it.
Now he is a ghost too--

the shadows of his shirts hang
in my still empty closet.

 

[playcatch]

15

spiraling behind sleep down
into your dream
my seeded
promise of spring

believe even now
(walking 'gainst freeze)
that months will pass and
we will walk shoes off
scarved by silky breezes

where brights a meadow
where we will walk

perhaps roll
perhaps thunder

 

[Remec]

5-1 Holiday Shopping

The long lines awaiting their chance
at surrendering many days' worth of
standing on concrete floors for hours
and hours were daunting, but not as
much as the looks he knew would be
waiting for him if Christmas morning
came and he didn't have just-the-right
pile of things as wrapped and ready to go.

 

[playcatch]

16

ready lock tight
bolted set with tinsel tied
and gas fires ready for the first
lit match

foot's ball urges toe
ready to dig her head into
sand
tensed

breath held
for gunfire

 

[Remec]

5 - 2

I
wish
I may
(wish I might?)
have my own wishing star
passing through night
into day
and
light​

 

[playcatch]

17

Victoria turns
tails so gleaming black

they sparkle tea trays

so fleet they never
get caught in jambs

forgoing i
ams

 

[Remec]

5 - 3

Without dénouement, is there still climax?
After all, could we slow and catch our breath
is there was nothing to have caused labored
huffing and puffing (not to mention wheezing),
and ragged, incoherent words denoting the arrival
of said climax or, perhaps, beginning the
inevitable questioning of our partner's state of being?

I think not.

After the build-up and crescendo (rushingrushing),
there comes, well, coming and then the slow
cuddling as internal reflexes make us both twitch and
shudder with painfully delightful aftershocks that
roll eyeballs back and bring us almost to the verge of
reawakening, I can see but one way to avoid that.

If the climax stopped my heart, maybe.

 

[playcatch]

18

Wichita

Twin rivers slow and speed identically
carrying weather and spilling it
over the mile between them.

A few blocks from here they join
all of their whispers of all the news
from their own sides of the mile
as if they'd never said anything worthy
until now.

 

[Remec]

5 - 4 Imposed Celibacy

Murphy's Law of teen dances: the prettiest girls were my sister's friends.

 

[playcatch]

19

My friend
so friendly
slipped the lying knife
in her large sleeve
to one who screams
inconsolably. It has no blade
just sheath.

I took three good knives from
the house of my dead grandmother
each well wept and sharp

enough to cut the telephone wire.

No one wants to hear
the truth which is
I did nothing
but write too much:
sometimes too well,
sometimes too poorly.

There were blood drops
down the lane. I live
still.

 

[Remec]

5 - 5 Autumn Hunt

The deer stand is colder
than I recall from previous
visits, I think it might be
the wind off the water just
below us. The pool is larger
and, while slight, the breeze
is enough that I'm sure
there's wind chill involved
somewhere.
Or it might simply be the
quiet calmness between us;
a stillness waiting for that
perfect chance to take what
will be a killing shot.