30 Poems in 30 Days (Redux)

[Remec]

6-2

Ominous

Dark and forbidding seems to be the way of most storms...and media.

 

[Remec]

6-3

Comparisons

There once was a man on the scene
Who said, "I hope I'm not being mean.
But even my ex,
When it came down to sex,
Was always much wetter than Joaquin."

 

[Remec]

6-4

WIP

Having a poem's schematics doesn't make it any easier.

 

[Remec]

6-5

Hospitality

Heavy lids rise
slowly
as fleeting dreams
are broken
up
by the loud snap
of the bug-lamp
protecting the screened
window that is about all I
can see from the bed

It's been left open, so
the sound carries further;
as does the scent of
newly mowed lawn when it
comes wafting in on what
passes
for a breeze

Without my shirt,
even that much wind is chill,
but trying to close it
is futile;
the straps are secure, leaving me
nothing to do but remain,
hunger growing,
only taunted by the taste of
stale blood on my lips,
closing lids again,
returning to those
dreams

 

[Remec]

6-6

Fading Images

I don't see her any more
when her name comes up
in idle chit chat or in
the middle of my newsfeed,
the face I couldn't get
enough of--lips, eyes, smile--
has become overshadowed
by little nuances of
nostalgia,
the echo of her laugh,
the smell of that drugstore
knockoff scent she liked,
the way her kisses tasted like
Chap-stik or Carmex over that
residual flavor from her cigs
I wish I still recalled the feeling
of her weight against me as I pressed
her to me, instead of merely the
way her well-washed denim
jeans felt as my hands caressed
her bottom

 

[Angeline]

1-1

Rainy Fib

Two
weeks
of rain
and that's just
outside. The dam breached
within, pools of anxiety
free-floating under leaden eyes.
Backatown I crave
higher ground,
sunshine
like
arms.


Hurricane Season

 

[Angeline]

1-2

is here.

 

[Remec]

6-7

There once was a halfling named Bilbo,
Who found himself inside a she-troll's she-hole,
He managed to shout,
When drawn back out,
"Madam! I'm a thief, not a dildo!"

 

[Remec]

6-8

Today's is here.

Thanks

 

[Angeline]

1-3

One for Winston O

Snow flurries dust my broom but strawberry fields sing forever in me.

 

[Angeline]

1-4

Letter to 1962

I've been thinking of you, of the love
that compelled and repelled you through decades;
one's parsimony, the other's apostasy mimed
in thunderface and spoken in voices raised
from other rooms sometimes even the same

room or oh god the car on a summer day
recalled faintly--windows down and ozone
hung in the heat--a real dog day limp
in the back seat and up front you bicker
money money money.

Well we didn't have much, did we?

Simple pleasures meant cheap.
Catch minnows in the stream junebugs
after dark when the blue focus spots me
on his lap as you shriek and pack.
Goddamn if Combat wasn't on tv I see

it still that small but mighty moment
ending when you slammed the door.

 

[Remec]

6-9

Kate Bush fib

A
Facebook
acquaintance
mentioned her in passing
sending me scrambling to Youtube
requeuing a playlist,
running up that
hill once
more.

 

[Remec]

6-10

Once again, today's poem is elsewhere.

 

[Angeline]

1-5

Another Dumb Galitzyaner

Your father's people are dumb Galitzyaners

says Mama, busy hands mixing perhaps sewing,
performing at my eye level and her voice
up above my head.

But we (patting dough, checking bobbins)

We are Litvaks!

________~

So ok we're descended maybe from some far-flung Rabbi of [insert lesser town name]
near Vilna, a student an arguer of such knowledge and ability as to proclaim with passion and precision and . . .. [Fade out.]

Why should I know at five
or six that ancient ghosts
are warring in me and I might
need to pick a side of myself
to be against? How absurd

this is New Jersey not a vanquished
vanished city or dusty end of town
somewhere in Ukraine. We have TV
and malls!

Of course I'm at least half
a dumb Galitzyaner, rough
uncouth farm genes riding
in me, stinking like shit
under my shoes.

Let me tell you I run out of that house all day like a perfect Caliban.
I skate miles around the block, play Combat in the dirt and sometimes
Doctor just for fun. I know which side of me has won.

 

[Remec]

6-11

Downtime in Oz


He sprawled about the floor,
most of him at any rate,
what he liked to really think of
as himself was actually
sitting on the mantle,
surveying the scene through
his mismatched deep blue eyes,

By the door, small night yips
punctuated the dreams of a
small, curly-haired, stumbling
block in the path of any would-be
robbers, evil witches, or
those damn flying monkeys.

She was on the couch, gingham dress
neatly folded along the back, spooned
together with the walking throw rug,
keeping the crybaby safe through
the night and softly moaning at the
subtle attentions of nickel-plated fingers
rubbing themselves in slow circles
over all the places that made her
so glad she'd gone home long enough
to grow up.

As he watched, he considered what
was next, and tried his best to ignore
the fluttering of feathers outside
the shuttered windows, but it would have
to be dealt with eventually. Murder just
seemed to follow him about.

He always was such a horrible
scarecrow.

 

[Angeline]

1-6

Scary Night at the Tower, 1972

Robs drops a bottle of B12, pills roll, six freaks come running at us.

 

[Angeline]

1-7

Sure

there were good times
Mama perched on a stool
by the radiator with her feet turned in
darning a sock, her face bright kind of
lower stature like Cinderella only
ethnic and all of us transfixed
in the quaint tv light.

There were gardens to be
planted, songs for bean vines
and ladybugs, weeds to be
worried and root beer shared
late in doorways watching
lightning strike. Sure.

Life can seem idyllic if
you're far enough away.

 

[Remec]

6-12

The Stand

Odd how quickly
things can heat up
when you just relax,
stop trying so hard

It was just a date,
not even that, to be
honest, just a meet-up
to put face and voice
to words on a screen.

But errands had to be run,
so after drinks and a light
snack, we headed out;
ended up holding hands like
it was second nature while
walking from car to store,
then a lingering kiss in the
middle of Target.

That was something new.

So, a light meeting became
dinner and a night out with
other cyber friends and
acquaintances--lots of dancing,
flirting, more than a little
innuendo and entendre, and
staying the night.

Even then...after making out
just enough to be told
"get a room' by high school aged
children...after exploring one
another slowly for a while
before turning in...even then,
at some point in the night,
the novelty of having someone
else in the bed turned into
spooning and dreaming
which led to being mounted
at 4 am, throwing her off and
drawing her to her all fours
after she'd practically collapsed
mid-squeeze around me...
even then...

I was still surprised it had
been a one time thing.

 

[Remec]

6-13

Complex Sleepy Fib

Sleep
never
seems to come
when you really want it,
teases with sudden
nodding off
then head
snaps
back
and you
sigh at still
being awake, but
then your soft
pillow
calls.



​

 

[Angeline]

1-8

FOH

When you are talking to the Sun warm
in comforting sand and shore sounds like

Gershwin's Lullaby sky bright, the clouds
scud over the beach passing farther East

so wave goodbye no race of cabs, shrill
headline, whoever may collapse is way

out boroughs west or tanning blissful
against the wind, skin soaking up UV

meditating in the Coppertone haze
less urgent than emergent. Just buzz.

 

[Angeline]

1-9

6th Ward Fib

Bounce
kings
shake up
New Orleans--
backatown Sixth Ward,
Treme on Rampart. Soul lives here
in Satchmo's park where Congo Square
still breathes some magic
in the air.
Drumtalk
sings
there.

 

[Remec]

6-14

Getting Lucky(?)


Missy's foot twitched
and the fuzzy dice went
flying from their usual
place on the mirror,

I watched them from
over her shoulder as
I held on for dear life
while she bounced on my lap

totally oblivious as the
cubes rebounded from us
to finish their roll on the seat.
Snake-eyes! Talk about an omen.

 

[Angeline]

1-10

T-Mick

my mouth fills with thought of you
so I slip into the ennui I dream
you lay beneath still asleep as if we
never parted, follow the tides out

to murky depths stream blind like
fat waves of time and pray to find
in one unbroken shell the whisper
of your voice would be enough to

dash everything else which is pure
noise and crash the pure hell known
as absence ashes or dust into
sun motes open tuning steel slide

into twilight note how gently rolled
our company warm on your chest

 

[Remec]

6-15

Cumming

As much as I have always loved
the sensation of mouth and lips,
tongue and throat,
closing about me and drawing forth
a justly deserved reward,

I have always thought it so much
sexier,
hotter,
dirtier,
to pull myself back from that warm cocoon
and watch the spurting, splashing, spewing
against lips and face,
dotting neck and chest,
flying between us to land on breasts and
in hair,

Watching that is practically a climax
in itself.

 

[Remec]

6-16

New Joint

Jazz hung in the air; thick enough that we never missed the cigar smoke.