Monday, February 17, 2014

The Argument


The Argument

Oh shit, here it comes
again, how it hurts that they
say such things to me
as if I'm nothing
to them even though we all
know better than to
think like that, don't we?
There is nothing left for me
but to say, "Because!
That's why. Because I
fucking damn said so, SAID so!!"

September 4, 2010 11:02 AM


Sunday, February 16, 2014

Scene 43, Take 6 - A Magpie Tale

Fire Escape on Universal Studios Lot,
Instagram by Sessepian
Offered by Tess Kincaid for a Magpie Tales writing prompt

Scene 43, Take 6

It's all props and fronts,
the whole thing, though of brickwork
and rusty old steel
fastened strong enough
to hold a guy at full tilt
dodging the Tommys,
the spray of brick chips
while half falling down the stair

(actually a
ship's ladder so called)

toward the final ladder
a few more flights down.

There's a couple false wounds
and some actual
bruises gathered on
the way, and a couple grins
from the best boy's crew.

February 16, 2014 1:08 PM

The Epidemic

Wordle 148


The Epidemic

I'll go to your court
later, when it's safe, darling.

Until then, be brave.

Turn tricks if you must, my love,
and never turn down
a party favor.
Don't mind them, dim old turkeys -
they fail our support
due to virus tracks
slurping down their wispy threads
and their wages are
frozen in love's frame.

‎February ‎16, ‎2014 12:12 AM

Written for The Sunday Whirl


Friday, February 14, 2014

North Arrow


North Arrow

Someone drew a sign
in the path I take to you.
I don't know why they'd
do this sort of thing,
but I'm good with North Arrows
anyway, so I
don't sense nastiness.
It does force me sideways
or I will smear it -
I wouldn't want that.

That one wants to change my ways
which happens sometimes,
almost never works.

‎February ‎14, ‎2014 2:42 PM

Thursday, February 13, 2014

The Bird At Your Breast

bird to your breast
by A-Fine-Frenzy

models: alison sudol and the pretty little birdie
photographer: michael lavine

http://www.deviantart.com/?view_mode=2&order=5&q=Michael+Lavine

The Bird At Your Breast

Then just choose, will you.
Just confess the breast or bird,
the milk or feather,
and break off the door
to the cage, bury it deep
and if forgetting
then wind it all up
or blow you winds, crack your cheeks!

There is an old choir
brought to the risers,
a group that whispers old gods
manifest in full
though they are gray smoke
in all your finer displays
and they have come here

for us, love, for us.

‎February ‎13, ‎2014 7:19 PM

Spring Awakening-3
by A Fine Frenzy

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

In A Spot - Three Word Wednesday


This week's words: Cruel; Ghastly; Unkempt.

Goodbye, Philip. I truly liked your work and thought well of you. I am sad you elected early and unexpected departure for other places. I hope it didn't hurt much. God protects drunks and fools. He doesn't keep them alive, necessarily. I don't want any arguments about this. I am just saying goodbye.

Oh by the way, the connection to the poem should be obvious and there is no other link. The poem is about something other than the passing of Philip Seymour Hoffman.

In A Spot

Beautiful, cruel,
vicious and too sadistic
for my normal words,
with your ice black eyes,
and your icier black heart -
it's just the ghastly
way things have worked out
between us that strews my junk
and keeps me unkempt.
They say payback's hell
and I heard God protects drunks
and fools. Yeah, I'm both
of those...

‎February ‎12, ‎2014 9:47 AM

Written for Three Word Wednesday

Monday, February 10, 2014

Down And Out


Down And Out

I twist, I shout out
how I'm trapped inside myself,
inside my old rags
and the dumpsters where
I find things to eat, twisted
up so my life is
swallowed down with half
eaten sandwiches smeared with
fry grease and left to
curdle in my soul.

September 4, 2010 10:18 AM

Sunday, February 9, 2014

The Ghost Writer

Brenda Warren's Sunday Whirl - Wordle 147


The Ghost Writer

One body, one stream
of consciousness to contend,
one list of blood lines -
gather your gutsy
old word smiths and pluck their hearts.
Break the dream routine,
oh invisible
ghost, and grasp my hand
for now. Flow with it.
Ectoplasmic squirt, there is
a brass ring to snatch,
a ditty to type.

‎February ‎9, ‎2014 9:56 AM

Fish Lips - A Magpie Tale

Image posted by Tess Kincaid as a writing prompt for Magpie Tales:Mag 206

Sea Creature

I just cannot say
how irritating it is
when you steal my hat
and shift your damn shape
into something that comes close to
a fetching woman
but you can't get past
the fish lip shape of your mouth
so I know it's you.

‎February 9, ‎2014 9:07 AM

Friday, February 7, 2014

A Midsummer Night's Dream

from the ballet of A Midsummer Night's Dream, Shakespeare
Of the ballet, Wiki says:
A Midsummer Night's Dream is a two-act ballet choreographed by George Balanchine to Felix Mendelssohn's incidental music for Shakespeare's play of the same name. In addition to the incidental music, Balanchine incorporated other Mendelssohn works into the ballet including Overtures to Athalie, Son and Stranger, and The Fair Melusine, Symphony No. 9 for Strings and The First Walpurgis Night. A Midsummer Night's Dream is Balanchine's first completely original full-length ballet, and premiered at New York City Ballet on January 17, 1962.

Burning The Dross

We wove complicated
spells of entangled dreaming
because it was right
for us to lift off
and float in mid-air in knots
of our own making,
limbs pinned back and cuffed
like some fetishist might do,
striving for the heights
of hot sensation
burning off all the drab ways
of the same old thing.

September 4, 2010 9:13 AM

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Send This Message - Three Word Wednesday



Keep your grav boots on.

Accelerate; Passive; Rogue.


Send This Message

I will dip my ship
in Terra's gravity well
per your work request
to accelerate
the timing. You say I've been
indigent, passive,
with not enough Rogue
Spice present in my cooking.
No matter it's hard
to get that flavor
except on some Jovian
moon's black market run.
I say I will soon
make the required
five point landing at Freeport.
The chits are all signed.

‎February 5, ‎2014 9:47 AM

Written for Three Word Wednesday

Sunday, February 2, 2014

I'm Glad That's Over

Brenda Warren's Sunday Whirl, Wordle 146

I'm Glad That's Over

It's all synergy,
that's what you've claimed all at once
as if your balance
depends on it now.
My potential sense of things
requires alternate
garden paths to run
and I've tiptoed along one,
one bucolic stripe
among the others.
I do fear I'll miss some routes
though I am open
still to your former
choices. There's a stronger edge
to your harmonics
these days, not like tunes
we shared back when we partnered up
on our last dope run.

‎February ‎2, ‎2014 12:40 PM

The Duet - A Magpie Tale

Posted by Tess Kincaid as a writing prompt for Mag 205

The Duet

I watch from the door.
You don't see me, you staring
out the wide window,
turned in Egyptian
profile and gauze gowned for sleep,
still glowing from steam.
I gave you your wrap
of terry, then tracked your scent
to our room nearby.

Oh, you were not there
though I thought you'd be waiting.

So I have come here
and find you sitting
above the keys, with your toes
working melody
in the harmonic
duet of our hope and truth.

At least so I hope.

‎February ‎2, ‎2014 11:24 AM

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Off-Piste - Three Word Wednesday



I hope you have a sense of humor today.

Affable; Galvanize; Rangy


Here’s a little lesson in perspective: how small an alpine hut can look against its surrounding peaks, and how big. The Swiss Alpine Club Monte Rosa hut is located on the north side of the 15,203-foot Monte Rosa, the highest point in Switzerland and second-highest peak in western Europe after Mont Blanc. It offers a fantastic off-piste run down into Zermatt, Switzerland, with the Matterhorn always at the edge of your vision.

It sleeps 120 on five floors and has a staff in late spring and summer. It’s open in winter, but you’re on your own. Or as on your own as you can be in one of Europe’s most popular wild playgrounds.

By the way, "off-piste" refers to cross country or back country skiing. A Piste is a groomed ski run.

I Guess This Means Divorce

How do I do this?
You are so damn affable
and sneaky old me
with not such good plans
for your next trick pony ride
oozing out my pores.
I will galvanize
my squad of gremlin tricksters
and surround your hut
with spite, you rangy
cur, you stealer of my peace.
I'm digging foxholes,
setting my mortars,
waiting for D-day, counting
down, down to H-hour.
Just you turn your back.
See what happens next, missy.
See what happens next.

January 29, 2014 8:41 AM

Three Word Wednesday

Monday, January 27, 2014

Clamming


Slogging through mudflats
at the edge of the brown bay
looking for clams, for
the secrets they keep,
all clammed up as some might say,
as if I would find
instructions on how
to love you better and find
a clear flowing tide.

September 3, 2010 4:23 PM

Sunday, January 26, 2014

I Skipped The Meeting

Brenda Warren's Wordle 145

The rule: Use all twelve words in a piece. You aren't done unless the piece makes some kind of weird sense.

I Skipped The Meeting

I'll facilitate
the plans. I'll find time to write
despite the juggling,
the strands of bad hair
I habitually sweep
out of the country
of my moon faced eyes.
Surely I will embrace gems,
the crystal aspect
of the coarse gravel
on the path of state. Sustain
the note. Hold it down.
This missive's been sent.

‎January ‎26, ‎2014 9:42 AM

Sleepless Night - A Magpie Tale

The Mill - 1964, Andrew Wyeth
provided as a prompt by Tess for this week's Mag 204

Often Wyeth does this to me. He opens me to the darker places that are available in my heart. In this painting I notice that the window glass can be the edge of my eyes. While the scene outside is clean with new snow, the gritty cold of the glass is the sharp line between the outside light and the dark raw wood within.

I learned long ago that it is easier for me to write the pain of life than it is to write the joy. This does not mean I am depressed or that my life is so horrible. It means that improv in the minor keys is easier to maintain without false notes than improv in the major keys. This is fundamental in music as well as poetry. It is not that my skill level is higher in the minor keys. Instead, it is that there are fewer false notes since dissonance is built in to things in the minor keys.

It is helpful that I am fond of dissonance and the suspension it supports. Perhaps this is overly technical, a musician's joy, the fun of making music rather than the appreciation of the finished work. I would rather be the musician than listen to him any day. I would rather write than read poetry.

Imagination being what it is, I honor where it goes, especially when it is guided by a master like Wyeth. Do not be concerned. I am not revealing my struggles per se, nor am I complaining in real time. I, like you no doubt, have suffered real agony in my days but not right now. It is easy for me to fictionalize after as much practice as has been given me in my later decades.

Sleepless Night

I have pulled myself
off the floor, off my bruised knees.
The warnings they give
tell me there's no good
can come of winter this year
and the cold pane view
confirms your absence
old enough to give no sign
in the falling snow.

I feel in my teeth
the biting of the north wind,
an exposed nerve, sharp
and cracking me wide
open like the bad thin skin
wrapping my ankle,
just above the knob.
This foretells my fall.

I risk
infection despite
all I try to do.
All is virginal out there,
but in here, bad air.

January 26, 2014 7:50 AM



Saturday, January 25, 2014

Making Camp

Painting by James Albert Hanes

It is ash now, ash
where we built the fire after
yesterday's long hike
into love's wild ways,
where we came to rest, singing
twelve songs of wonder
all in angelic
tones, as if it was written
that we give love voice.

September 3, 2010 9:46 AM

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Please


An angel touched me.
I did not know it then like
I know it today.
Today I am sure
an angel touched me down deep
in the great ocean
of my dream of you.
I know it now oh my love.
The angel's true heart
is too deep to reach
though I discipline my breath
and pop my ears as
you taught me so well.
I only want you, you know.
I know you know it.

‎January ‎23, ‎2014 6:05 AM

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Must Be A Nightmare - 3 Word Wednesday

Three Word Wednesday

Malevolent; Probe; Repulsive


Must Be A Nightmare

A malevolent
probe, so completely thorough,
an act repulsive
to the quick and dead,
man and beast - an insertion
of cold steel wire in
place after place all
up and down me as I lie
helpless, abducted
(I don't believe this)
by the grays - taken from my
innocence and raped
by refugees from
a History Channel show
in their tinfoil suits.

‎January ‎22, ‎2014 7:01 AM

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Sandy Hook


When Adam Shot Them Down
Sandy Hook, December 14, 2012

How do we do this,
you asked me and I could hear
the crack in your soul
caused by the cracking
air and the smells, oh the smells
and the hues spilled out
all across the ground
before us on the hot screen
while they yammered on.

We feel the bitter
clench in the sweaty curtains
at the winter panes
of frozen crystal.
It's one shitty year and more
since little dead cries
were slapped down, leaking
love and dreams and all sweetness
there was in the world.

How can I go now?

‎January ‎21, ‎2014 5:54 AM

Monday, January 20, 2014

The Challenger



Wiki says of the Challenger: "The crew compartment and many other vehicle fragments were eventually recovered from the ocean floor after a lengthy search and recovery operation. The exact timing of the death of the crew is unknown; several crew members are known to have survived the initial breakup of the spacecraft. The shuttle had no escape system, and the impact of the crew compartment with the ocean surface was too violent to be survivable."

Often it is not the fall but the landing. In the case of that 73 second flight the fall is a real fall. In my poem it could be metaphorical. The result is the same.

The Challenger

So many of us
struggle to find some kind of
answer to the pain.
I guess that's because
pain hurts. We even take off
risking a failed seal
in some crucial seam
that we may rise above all
the grit and muddy
sludge that paints our wounds.
We train and learn and then teach
each other so much
but not enough to
stop the fall. We howl like wolves
howl at the bone moon.

‎January ‎20, ‎2014 10:29 AM

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Love Song 144

Wordle 144

Love Song 144

I will bend and sigh
as I curl inward on signs
of my hope for us.
You carry my weight
easily, spirits rising
as I conjure time
in my cap. I love
caps and love to hold eons
as close as I might
other brass trinkets.
Oh, I won't neglect the shape
of your nest, putting
my back into it
as I twine around your heart
tying knots of love.

‎January ‎19, ‎2014 1:01 PM
Written for

A Musician Waits Curbside - A Magpie Tale

Musician In The Rain - Robert Doisneau,
provided as a prompt by Tess
for this week's Mag 203

A Musician Waits Curbside

Her sweet harmony
echoes like mist from over
the edge of my soul.
The cello I take
with me most places I go
has been all around
the world even more
than I have because you gave
her to me used, aged
by better players
than I.

The bowed strings evoke
all her songs each time.

If I have to wait
in the rain I will cover
her sooner than me.

‎January ‎19, ‎2014 11:08 AM

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Roll Call


The primary threads of Western thought are woven together out of the Greek mountains and seas and out of Middle Eastern foment and desert disciplines. It is said in current scholarship that Jesus as a builder under his dad, growing up in Nazareth, would most probably commute to Sepphoris (Tzippori) to ply his trade. That center of Hellenistic and Roman influence was populated by cosmopolitan Jews and Gentiles alike, perched on the trade routes in the area.

Sepphoris held the opportunities for employment that would secure the family. Sepphoris was older, less than four miles from Nazareth, the newer and more Jewish community. Sepphoris dated back at least to the Assyrians and perhaps to the northern extent of Egyptian influences. Also, it is thought that Jesus' mother Mary was born in Sepphoris so he likely had mother's side relatives (the more important Jewish bloodline) still living there.

If Jesus received any Greek education at all (and he probably did) it was here that he found it, an easy walk from his Nazarene home. It is likely, then, that in Jesus the precise mix that was to eventually sweep Europe and then much of the world started in Sepphoris.

The classical Roman Empire was pushed aside and largely replaced in Europe by internal splits and external invasions, and by the eastern Constantinian maneuvers which culminated in the Holy Roman Empire and the varieties of outlying Christian influences. This eastern influence heavily modified the Christianity of Rome itself.

The Roman rite claims primacy through Paul and Peter, thus emphasizing the Hebraic legacy of Jesus' lineage, undergirding the claim that Jesus is The Second in a triune godhead. The Eastern rite claims primacy through the legitimacy of the Constantine legacy, a more pragmatic connection to the Grecian world and love of philosophy, theology and public devotions. This stream contains the gatherings of the Christian councils under Constantine's protection, councils which created the Creeds (the Nicene and Apostle's) that define public Christian membership today.

The growing influence of private devotions to Jesus and His Abba/Father (as currently interpreted) is much more modern, permitted mainly by the Protestant split from Rome and Constantinople. This influence of privacy, which of course includes the introduction and reintroduction of heretical and non-Christian spiritual variants is rolling back on the Rites. The consequences of such a change are nowhere near finished.

Rome and Greece, the Levant and the Galilee, the sweep through the Middle East and around into Egypt and the North African coastline are the historical sources of the western mind. Persia and India nibble on the edges. China resides in the fog beyond the Himalayas and the jungles of Southeast Asia and contributes mainly through transplantation of early technology and agriculture. However, be assured that the forces of human enterprise pushed more or less constant traffic along the Silk Road from west to east, east to west, and back again.

It is difficult then to separate out strands of human perception and belief, dreams and thinking from this ancient global ebb and flow. Who thought or believed what first and who found what fruitful relationship to God, philosophy and science is really not possible to finalize.

Roll Call

Orion's sword shines
with a cold and distant light.
He threatens me like
he always does, called
to it like you called to me.

I am to rebel
is what you laughing
said, and to doubt you most days.
Orion is pissed
that I too should have
this roll he thought his alone
but since has had to
share with so many
gods and kings, critters and more
to come I expect.

‎January ‎18, ‎2014 7:36 AM

Daniel Seiter's 1685 painting of Diana over Orion's corpse (Diane auprès du cadavre d'Orion):

Friday, January 17, 2014

Love Song


Love Song 513

I've carved my song out
of the white long hollow swan
bone flute you gave me
to play in the deep
grace of our moon glow filled nights.

I sit near your trust.
Moon lets me see how
the whole shine of your presence
flows down the long years -
yes, dear, the long years.
Then I get all tangled up
in them as I must,
like the warm blankets
we wrap loose around the world
get all that way too.

‎January ‎17, ‎2014 6:14 AM


The inspiration for this poem is a recent poem Rachel wrote and posted on her blog The Waxing Moon: Rite Of Passage Thank you Rachel.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

It's A Human Thing


Poppa, Let Me Rest

It's fundamental.
It's a human thing for sure.
I've turned you into
a stone and thrown you
into the pond for the rings
hoping they will fit
on my fingers, gold
on my soul.

Oh you promised
me gold but the rings
melt away. So I
try again - maybe this time.
It's a human thing.

You said if you meet
me on the road I must kill
you right then before
I wrap you all tight
like I've tied your laces round
my delicate neck.

‎January ‎16, ‎2014 4:22 AM

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

It's A Dog's Life - 3 Word Wednesday

Three Word Wednesday

Anxious; Devoted; Scrawny


It's A Dog's Life

God! Am I all in!
I would collapse of it if
I warn't so anxious.
Got me the word here
says you are all devoted
but I wish you'd go
t'other some damn where
and leave me be, leave me be.
I gots a scrawny
doggy heart, I know
and broken teeth too by Gaw,
and horny hard feet
and a down home smell
and possum for my supper,
not enough for you.

‎January ‎15, ‎2014 8:48 AM


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