Saturday, August 31, 2013

Someone Lives In Here

Someone Lives In Here

Every broken
window is a piece of me.
The way you said so
pulled me out of time
and threw me to the dusty
floor of my antic
past, once well swept but
no longer. I don't go there.

In one far corner
a small creature makes
her home. I see her scat here
and here but not there.
I wonder why me?
Why must I do it?
I hear her rustle papers,
an old obsolete
will among them, sure.
Go get the broom, son. Sweep up.
But no. I do not
want to disturb her.

‎August ‎31, ‎2013 11:06 AM

Friday, August 30, 2013

Steady On, Grasshopper

Filled up to my palps
with the sight of bread strung up,
the turnips filleted,
with me crucified
in my rosy fantasy,
I search out the cause,
jumping the world lines,
these parting like smoke before
my thin blonde feelers.
I have no idea
what this all means nor whether
I should worry more
or just fiddle on,
do another new ditty
to thread through the air.

‎August ‎30, ‎2013 10:00 AM

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Life Eats Life

There is no way past
the damage, the small scuttling
prey in our local
group of flames which burn,
char the innocence away.

I am stained by stars.

It starts so far back,
so beyond your heart and mine
that we must accept
it as our fate, not
fight it as from hope, but hope
never the damn more
for it, for the love
in it, for the touch of it,
the press and heat that
changes it and us
all forever more. Our joy
is found at the feast.

August 29, 2013 6:21 AM

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

I Won't Back Down - 3WW

Thom writes:
Each week, I post three words. You write something using the words.

Then come back and post a link to the contribution with Mr. Linky (but please, link to the exact post, not your blog, by clicking on the exact post title and paste it to Mr. Linky below). As always, there's no hard-and-fast rule that you have to post on Wednesday.

To join this week's 3 Word Wednesday writing group *click here*
This week's words:

Anticipate; Fearless; Serene

I Won't Back Down

I won't make a scene,
not today no matter how
the squirrel scolds me
from the dogwood tree.
You anticipate my play,
expect me to pay
you homage again,
you being all that fearless,
the real hero type.
Me, I am serene
in the infallible stand
I take on this thing,
the frigging rightness
of the hill I must defend
with my gas and guns.

‎August ‎28, ‎2013 9:37 AM

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Yet More Pain

No, I do not seek
yet more pain even though it
comes like a John Deere
over the berm to
mow me down. I'm the weedy
verge of the long road
to a destiny
that looms at the horizon
of my love for you.

August 14, 2010 4:34 PM

I add the date of composition to the poem for just this kind of thing. This poem is brand new in that it has never appeared on the blog before but it is over three years old now. If it was ever current emotionally, it is not now. On the other hand it is a Raven's tale. They might be factual. They are often true. Ravens like shiny things.

Monday, August 26, 2013

Raven Talk

Image titled Raven Talk by Vivian C. Olsen

Very few birds want
to speak as we do. Raven
does. I tried to teach
that saucy fellow
and he eyed me with his black
glass orbs as if mad
with a need to strike
so I know I am wrong - not
built to instruct him
though I remain sure
he wants to speak truth to me
and perhaps to you.

August 26, 2013 1:42 PM

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Why I Oughta - A Magpie Tale

Image offered by Tess Kincaid as a writing prompt for this week's Magpie Tale.

Passing Place near Sullom Voe, photo by Steven Kelley, who hails from London, born and raised in Scotland.

Wiki says, Sullom Voe is an inlet between North Mainland and Northmavine on Shetland in Scotland. The word Voe is from the Old Norse vagr and denotes a small bay or narrow creek.

The Voe, the longest in Shetland, and partially sheltered by the island of Yell was used as a military airfield during World War II both by the Royal Air Force and the Norwegian Air Force as a location for flying boats. It is now the location of the Sullom Voe oil terminal, run by BP Oil for a consortium of oil companies.

To join with and enjoy this week's Magpie Tales writing group
*click here*

Why I Oughta

So I left it all,
peace, tranquility
and everything
graceful, even wise.
I left it right there, Buster,
right there at the sign
which said, "Passing Place"
and I meant to do it too.
I have something hard
I must do. You know.
It's been coming up for me
awhile now, rising
like tar in the sand.
I just have to get it out.
I've been cleaning my
new Smith and Wesson
with a really high grade oil
and a fine mesh cloth.

‎August ‎25, ‎2013 8:26 AM

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Game Face

I am seldom sure
of my place or direction.
I play my cards close
and so secretive
that I don't know what the rules
might be nor who else
plays, but I guess dogs
are my partners at this game
like that old picture
or maybe they're some
other wilder stake holders
trying to remind
me of my musky
roots, my vestigial tail,
my full moon concert.
Check raise, my one chance
to win at these table stakes -
but too many tells.

‎August ‎24, ‎2013 10:53 AM

Friday, August 23, 2013

The Grumichama

Why do we do it?

Here I am again sitting
at the board, my left
eye watering, blind
except for smeared out side light
but me tapping out
letters and phrases
as if that matters to me,
to anyone else.

I just read some guy
writing of his childhood friend
and an exotic
Brazilian fruit tree
I had to look up to know.
They hung cardboard stars.
they cut from a box.

Meanwhile it rained some last night
and that broke the heat.

‎August ‎23, ‎2013 9:23 AM

This poem is a spin-off of "Making Stars With Jacob Lawrence", written by Myronn Hardy

The Grumichama is a fruit tree that grows native to southern coastal Brazil. It has been imported to various locations world wide but with spotty success as it seems to be picky about where it lives. For example, the tree does all right in some Florida locations but not others and better, it seems, around Palm Springs in California. The fruit is edible and quite tasty, but the sepals and the size and number of the seeds detract from the experience. There are two varieties, the more common red fleshed fruit variety and the less common white fleshed fruit variety. The fruit is reported to taste rather like the true sweet cherry but with a touch of aromatic resin added in. In Hawaii, where the Grumichama grows well, the fruit is eaten out of hand when ripe and made into pies and jellies when a bit greener.

So say the botanists at Perdue University, a research university in Lafayette, Indiana, flagship of the six university Perdue system.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

The Incident

The Incident, I

Tripped at the edge, fell
into the cavern beneath,
sliding past the mud
and further than that,
tumbled past your old ashes
and mine. We once loved
in all that time, time,
shivery mounds of long time
full of drudge and fear
and beauty and hope,
that too in great sloping piles.
Drifts pack the small hole
leading out of here.
This means I must dig my way
or wither and fade.

‎August ‎22, ‎2013 8:38 AM

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Paranoia - 3 Word Wednesday

Thom writes:
Each week, I post three words. You write something using the words.

Then come back and post a link to the contribution with Mr. Linky (but please, link to the exact post, not your blog, by clicking on the exact post title and paste it to Mr. Linky below). As always, there's no hard-and-fast rule that you have to post on Wednesday.

To join this week's 3 Word Wednesday writing group *click here*
This week's words:

Distinct; Irrational; Sullen


In distinct packets
of coded information
your message has come
down to me like hail
on the irrational thatch
of my local digs.

I know I've gone batshit.

The sullen sun of August
has driven me out
and I dig holes, search
for bugs in the wattle walls,
sure the agency
has bad intentions
and will meet them by skinning
me past endurance.

‎August ‎21, ‎2013 9:30 AM

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Salmon Run

If I was a fish
I would paint my skin with sky
and mountains and bears,
with slippery rocks
and shiny things so brightly
wrought that I would fade
behind my own work,
the tatoos of my journey
to the spawning grounds
and beyond them to

August 20, 2013 9:24 AM

Monday, August 19, 2013

Looking For The Edge

This is Victoria Falls. Wiki says: Victoria Falls (or Mosi-oa-Tunya, or Tokaleya Tonga: the Smoke that Thunders) is a waterfall in southern Africa on the Zambezi River at the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe. The man stands on an edge that holds back a swimming hole where one can safely bathe close to the edge. Images of people in various poses are often taken right here.

Looking For The Edge

That's the moment, the instant
I am looking for-
The time just before
it all collapses into
normal business,
stuff as freaking usual
(so we say it, drowned
as we are in dream)-
I am looking for
the crack in things, finely wrought
by the voice of God
whispering nothing
in any particular
and touching the world
so, to make us go.

Yes, that's really really it.
I've been there before
but just that one time.

August 19, 2013 8:40 AM

Sunday, August 18, 2013

The Queen Encounters Herself - A Magpie Tale

Elena Kalis has created high art, using her camera to explore feminine themes and how water may affect them in a variety of clever ways. The fluidity of her images is all her own as is the bright light and the clarity of the sea and pools she has found in her island of Bahama neighborhood and other locations. The photo chosen by Tess Kincaid for this week's writing prompt is a very good example of Elena's work. Facebook "Elena Kalis Underwater Photography" or visit Elena's main page.

To join with and enjoy this week's Magpie Tales writing group
*click here*

The Queen Encounters Herself

When you met yourself
face to face, you fell apart
like phantoms do.
No matter you flew
at the time, confounding us,
an ascending sign
of your excellence,
no matter all your magic.
What mattered, the cry
pulled out of your frame
at seeing yourself shiver
apart, vaporize
like water sucked up
by some dry Saharan air,
us quaking below.

‎August ‎18, ‎2013 9:10 AM

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Follow Me

Some far love song calls
to me like a small bird calls
from the wire outside
my kitchen window
and me, I must hesitate
before I answer
before I dare you
to follow me down into
the one sweet love back
in the old shadows
of shared memories.

August 14, 2010 4:15 PM

Friday, August 16, 2013

Oh Well

The Amber Dragon's Hoard

Check out the work of Phil McDarby, an Irish artist in mixed media. *click here* This photoshop production is a fine example of what an artist can do in attending to details and trusting that the wholeness of things will shine through. Notice on the far right, an ant is taking a berry from the Amber Dragon's hoard.

I came here questing
after the way of all things
as if I could hold
all that all at once.
All, all, all as if that was
a real word about
this world and me lord
instead of the come and go
of things as they are
and me another
bozo and on the short bus
at that. What a chump.

Still, there is something
grand in the persistent hunt
for the dragon's hoard.

‎August ‎16, ‎2013 9:36 AM

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Moving On

I drove home today
from your funeral past fields
of scattered horses
who, turning away,
grazed alone after the heat
of some argument
they had.

I felt that.

One eyed me briefly. The shine
of it signaled me
to stay on my side
of the fence. The argument
continued, it seemed.
Meanwhile, at our pond
the duck line scattered. The lead
duck dove under for
her lunch. The others
followed in their own sweet time.
I stumbled on the stairs.

‎August ‎15, ‎2013 10:13 AM

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Old Habits - Three Word Wednesday

Thom writes:
Each week, I post three words. You write something using the words.

Then come back and post a link to the contribution with Mr. Linky (but please, link to the exact post, not your blog, by clicking on the exact post title and paste it to Mr. Linky below). As always, there's no hard-and-fast rule that you have to post on Wednesday.

To join this week's 3 Word Wednesday writing group *click here*
This week's words:

Distraught; Habitual; Regulate

Old Habits

I had a lover
just like you once. I'm distraught
about it, of course.
My habitual
moments of temper swamp me
just like all the times
she massaged my eyes,
she crooning to regulate
the weight of my dreams,
as if that was right
to do, but I ran from her:
I will run from you.

August 14, 2013 6:41 AM

Monday, August 12, 2013

Here's The Situation

"Into the Swimming Pool (Ins Schwimmbad)", Max Liebermann, 1878

Brothers under skin
seeking the truth in far worlds
and near, in deep dives
into warm lagoons
and on the hot sands of time's
atolls, reaching truth
in certain moments
remembered or dreamt, even
demanded, wrestled
out of the next now
and the next, and then lying
back to glance sidelong
hoping someone's close
by, watching.

August 14, 2010 3:47 PM

I feel that if I am genuinely grown up, I no longer seek to show off for my mother's approval (Hey Mom! Look at me!) Unfortunately, I still look around for her, perhaps in your eyes, my darling. My Mom died in 2001 nearing eighty.

Sunday, August 11, 2013

Living The Dream - A Magpie Tale

Marcelle Lender Doing The Bolero In Chilperic
Henri De Toulouse-Lautrec
Offered by Tess Kincaid as a writing prompt for Mag 181

To join with and enjoy this week's Magpie Tales writing group
*click here*

Living The Dream

Your drafty garret -
dust in the air sings in light
but causes my nose
to swell, then sneeze
out knots of musty old grit.
Confusion thrown to
the currents - eddys
in all four blood stained corners
testify to work
and more work, struggle
and ever more damn struggle
while on the canvas
oh so slow the dance
begins to appear outside
my eyes, my dry hands
and the heat throbs in
the red cracks that craze my past
while I draw you there.

‎August ‎11, ‎2013 8:01 AM

Saturday, August 10, 2013

I Ran Away

I remember you
in the new light of the day
as I stand alone
at the edge of things
far from the door to your heart
and I notice life
fading in its time
here near the rim of lost love -
you lying in dawn's
glow not yet knowing
that I have lifted love's mark
on the moon, on you.

August 14, 2010 2:31 PM
Modified August 10, 2013

Friday, August 9, 2013

With All Of It

Mount Ranier, Washington from above Myrtle Falls in August

Wander into weeds,
there to find summer's gold shine.
Lift up the flat rocks
by the summer's creek
there to find darkness, burrows
made by pensive thoughts.
Rise up and soar - birds
and thoughts and bright hearts on wing
above all the others
and then hold me, then
with all the opening warmth,
all the darkness too,
then hold onto me.

August 14, 2010 2:03 PM

Thursday, August 8, 2013

The Naming Game

This poem takes off on a poem entitled "Things" written by Lisel Mueller. I found "Things" on the Whiskey River blog site. Lisel Mueller (born February 8, 1924) is an American poet. She won the U.S. National Book Award in 1981 and the Pulitzer Prize in 1997. Mueller was born in Hamburg, Germany, in 1924 and immigrated to America at the age of 15.

The Naming Game

We grew older so
we named many things that they
would be a little
like us, have our eyes,
our tongues, a lip, a long neck
or some such, hoping
each would speak or wink
or something like that one day
and then we could free
our silver back dry
grip on each other and lope
far far far away.

‎August 8, ‎2013 4:39 PM

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

The Loner - 3WW

Thom writes:
Each week, I post three words. You write something using the words.

Then come back and post a link to the contribution with Mr. Linky (but please, link to the exact post, not your blog, by clicking on the exact post title and paste it to Mr. Linky below). As always, there's no hard-and-fast rule that you have to post on Wednesday.

To join this week's 3 Word Wednesday writing group *click here*
This week's words:

Berserk; Duplicate; Quibble

Flocking behavior is the behavior exhibited when a group of birds, called a flock, are foraging or in flight. There are parallels with the shoaling behavior of fish, the swarming behavior of insects, and herd behavior of land animals.

Computer simulations and mathematical models which have been developed to emulate the flocking behaviors of birds can generally be applied also to the "flocking" behavior of other species. As a result, the term "flocking" is sometimes applied, in computer science, to species other than birds.

The Loner

I do believe you.
While I promise I won't go
berserk, still I must
fly low to avoid
impact with all the other
birds of Quibble Quay
as they lift themselves
into the high flock southing
along the sun lines.

For myself, I shall
stay and duplicate my song,
looking after my heart.

‎August 7, ‎2013 4:26 AM

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Late Summer

Your songs are like dreams
found resting in the long grass,
hot dusty songs hung
low in trees on limbs
old and cracked, abandoned rows
of trees, old orchards,
wizened fermented
apples and sodden golden
bees drunk on their juice,
drooping afternoons.

August 12, 2010 4:24 PM

Monday, August 5, 2013

I Got The News Today, Oh Boy...

I Got The News Today,
Oh Boy...

Glass half full of juice,
bowl of dry cereal spilled,
me curled at table,
a still life of sorts
with the red chair kicked away
spun on both back legs
by the force of it,
all of this leading somewhere
while I stare one eyed.

The print out sits close
just over the table's edge
poised to flutter down.

‎August ‎5, ‎2013 11:04 AM

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Surface Illusions - A Magpie Tale

Image by M.C. Escher, "Drawing Hands", 1948
Provided by Tess Kincaid as a writing prompt for Mag 180

To join with and enjoy this week's Magpie Tales writing group
*click here*

Surface Illusions

When I was three years
on the planet a fellow
decided to draw
hands drawing themselves
to show the strangeness two dee
adds when you try to
chase three dimensions
within two dimensional

But I think more
to the point, we draw
ourselves precisely like this,
surface illusions
above deeper ground,
the spiritual savannah
of inner spaces.

‎August 4, ‎2013 10:12 AM

The "lost city" sandstones formed 1.4 billion years ago, found in Limmen National Park near the city of Cape Crawford in the Northern Territory (NT) of Australia. This formation is located on the Australian savannah. To see it, travel to Cape Crawford and hire a helicopter.

Saturday, August 3, 2013


I have hesitated to announce it. I wanted to adjust a bit and perhaps be told there was some possible turn around or skill or technique or drug. They tell me I have to wait six months but that mainly the chances are my condition in my left eye is permanent. I have been injected now twice through the white of my eyeball but that drug is to inhibit the confused capillary response to my condition. It does nothing to cure my eye, just helps it not get worse. There is no surgical fix possible without a considerable natural healing that is remotely possible but not likely at this point.

I walked out of a local church basement at 6:40 PM four Fridays ago. I noticed something wrong with my left eye that was not wrong in the basement. So that's when it happened. I had a bleed, called a subretinal hemorrhage, and it has over a couple weeks effectively taken all my sight in that eye. It did not and does not hurt. I wear a patch most days now because my eye tries to see past the blotch and clarify the jungle in the golden light that is left to me, see past it to the real world. I have retinal flashes that draw me to that eye too, flashes of white. I think I am seeing ghosts. I place pressure on my eye by rubbing it and produce pinpricks of intense blue light in the blackness. So far I am not too seriously handicapped but I am a bit nervous about what could happen to my right eye.

I was at the higher end of the normal range of Coumadin levels. I have taken Coumadin for three years because my stroke risk is so high. I have had two minor heart events and a minor pulmonary embolism and atrial fibrillation is constantly with me. So is insufficient flexibility in my heart's intake relax stroke, the one that fills it with blood to pump. I do not pump a full chamber of blood any more. Low volume in my blood flow comes from these two directions and both lead to higher risk of clotting. This is called diastolic heart failure and it is a close relation to congestive heart failure. The docs did not duck and weave nor did they waffle. It is certainly the Coumadin caused this in me. Now my allowed Coumadin blood level is much tighter with the upper end lowered half way to the lower end of the level. This is much harder to maintain. Weekly blood tests are required of me.

My conundrum: do I halt the Coumadin, accept the risk of stroke and perhaps save my sight? Do I keep the Coumadin, possibly saving me from stroke, but risk losing my sight? The doctor says straight up, "I don't know." Neither do I but I am less afraid of blindness, oddly enough, than I am of a debilitating stroke that does not kill me.


The Evening Star
has stolen my sanity
once again, matter
beyond fact but not
smoke, never smoke in all this

are not looking for
their herds, nor are dogs any
help at the moment.
Lord, I am trying
to settle down, I promise
and hope to die, stick
a needle in my

I wear the pirate patch
but not that well, Love.
My Evening Star,
you've pierced me. Now I'm half blind,
but you are still near.

‎August 3, ‎2013 3:21 PM

Hesperus, The Evening Star, Ed Burne-Jones, completed 1870
Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, 1st Baronet, A.R.A. (28 August 1833 – 17 June 1898) was a British artist and designer.

Friday, August 2, 2013

Sharing My Classics

If I tried to raise
your civility I would
deserve what I get
when you wander off
after yet more shiny things,
me thinking I have
a grip, know what's what
and have the duty to trim
your pierced, tattooed soul.

August 12, 2010 2:37 PM

Thursday, August 1, 2013

The Tempering

Blood Tempering
I chased the old books
and the new, declarative
of my lore, more proud
than wise but claiming
wisdom as my due because
I work so fucking
hard, don't you know.

God, I keep chasing after
You and I am clubbed
upside my bruised brain
again, again. I am pig
iron until You
temper me in fire
and ice. I fall thus impure
and come out bright steel.

August 11, 2010 3:00 PM
Tempering Colors In Steel

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