Thursday, April 30, 2015

Prompt:Where do lost streets go

Where Lost Streets

When fog rises from the river
and dances up our hillsides
it pilfers the unmoored,
collects any untethered song
nameless piano tunes roll along
in the dark of its impermeable light

We could see the wriggling
shapes of lost streets ascending
green hillocks. this is how our small city
is remade and how it is undone.

Everyone was watching as labyrinths
emerged on three slopes above Big Flats
where lost streets sought their forgotten
shapes and tangled forming figure eights

By a stroke of deep invention
armchair quarterbacks proposed a solution
they named all the alleys
that were my private walkways
where crows shouted and shadowed me
where squirrel highways become visible

and so weighted and bound
with words, held in place, held down
undone our wayward Brigadoon.

Prompt one sentence Day 16

Again in university where glass windowed classrooms
face a tiered plaza of stone and brick,  greened places to sit
where the sun shines, the bright city beckons
tempting you  to skip class which you’ve skipped
a whole semester yet you catch up
 attend class, sop up knowledge,
are thick bread on rich chunks of nurturing soup
fill dry pores with liquid knowledge
become moist, enriched, resist the call 
to play to surf knife edged knowledge
thereby be cut, sliced, shred again
as the process in obtaining it costs
the self some pain whenever pursued
wholly, truly such isolation
in facing the yawning universe of need
as if skill provides power or renders anything
knowable despite strivings, desire or need
there is resistance, indifference
even if your cunning songs sing truth
even if you weed and feed your soil,
blooms fade, you ice winged narcissus
are ravaged from below thieving neighbors
rise at dawn with  hungry spades and dog to steal them
which you witnessed from the door opened
to let your cat out to taste the dew

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Hubble 25

" Lipogram ( letter a)"

Hubble 25

Slivers of pigment undid its polished perfection
misconstrued tools resulted in severe errors
offset edge by 2.2 micrometers, tiny, profound
restored by sky folk, reworked by outliers
who reengineered vision with corrective devices
more mirrors, new lenses, fixed slight imprecisions
now peers further into cosmos through five servicing missions
competition for telescope time is intense
no schedule for unexpected events
studies the deep field, the fiery filled cosmos
geosynchronous systems used to tell us
discern colors from monochrome sources
figured the birth of the universe in 2003
found our first moment of being to be
13.7 billion before we were conceived
redeployed to higher low earth orbit
345 miles up there it flies
16,000 miles per hour sees bygone whys
flickering lights in ever unfolding skies

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Our First

Prompt remember your first

Our First
for IHS

We had planned it, we two Geminis,
gold and brown, athlete and musician
though you carried bongos more
than your tennis racket and played while
I read my poems we discussed it with our
best friends. mine lied and claimed
knowledge she didn’t have, saying later
she’d only slept with Cleveland, not
done that with both amazement
and admonition in her voice
Perry helped you buy first condoms
seemed solemn and concerned
plotting where to go and how to get some
we went ahead of them
my handmade flowered mini dress
worn that day to please you
no jeans to make it easy
my slip clinging from our quick static
and your wild straw hair damp
and clotted on the pillow, lion mane
your cheeks ruddy and your lips
hot as we exchanged unguarded kisses
showed ourselves to each other
sunlight poured in your wide windowed room
it hurt for a moment, opening
and you shivered, shuddered
glowed, flushed multicolors,  lit
and burning all we could blaze
and just as I coiled about you
to discover more, we heard your parents
home early, your mother calling
then upstairs at the closed door

asking if everything was okay

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Seam Ripper

"DAY 21
”Write a poem about an object that belongs/belonged to one of your parents. You might find it easier to convey the object’s meaning if you describe your parent using (or whatever word’s appropriate) that object in a particular moment in time.”

Seam Ripper

Yellow bright plastic cover encases
the seam ripper protects blind fingers
from its sharp metal tip or the razored scoop
where it functions with a small round shaft for a handle

This was her last one,
what I grabbed when she departed
sudden, swift, flew the coop of this brown garment,
efficient as her tool  that made quick work
of removing small, tight stitches

undoes the thread without damaging fabric
when seams went wrong
or when repurposing  old clothes

new lines made into new relationships
formed under guidance of pressure foot
and  treaded feed, pierced by needle
feeding spooled  and bobbined threads

fine blades slide under small tight stiches
Legionnaires flu, sick folks in quilting class
during a Sunday afternoon nap, a heart attack

Long nights after long days’ work
she would eat inexpert meals
that Daddy or I made
rise after a quick lie down
to sew until near dawn

Song of her Singer whirring machine lullabye
with seam ripper at hand to release
fabric from misalignments
or strip basted lines from a garment
Open the provisional to attach the permanent

all I have of her is this small, effective tool.

Monday, April 20, 2015

Loud, at Sea

Do teachers see this in their students
some  from whom light pours
they leak with yearning Gleaming
is it their phospherescent flowering
their youth or the promis
you recognize a keen sensitivity
and suddenly you feel as if their parent
an indulgence you cannot afford
to answer their ringing  bells
their inner singing souls that stretch
out and speak
to understand their wagging listening
you see the quiver in their bows vibrate
and you want to give them sure targets
though they are already pierced and bleeding
you want to point them to fertile ground
so that where they drip will bloom
that they be partnered and not alone
and this young land tamer who
transformed your yard from brambles
to garden, for him you pray
that he not journey the hills unprovisioned
that  the harsh  winters leaking off the trestles
and  frosting the stench drenched bars

melt before they bite or dim him

Friday, April 10, 2015

DAy 9 In the Mood for Love film prompt

"DAY 9
’'Watch this clip from In The Mood for Love twice. And then go make something of it, following these guidelines 
- No more than 28 lines
- Include a pair of homonyms (e.g., ‘rite’ and ‘right,’ or ‘dear’ and ‘deer’)
- Consider ‘drift’ and ‘light’
- Consider anatomy (but not the heart, eyes, or lips); and
- A line, phrase, or name taken from this Wikipedia entry on the lunar maria and the mare basalts ( )’’
And here’s the clip from In The Mood For Love! 

She descends with care
a dark passage to a deep hearth
past lamplight‘s arc,
long narrow stairs
to a crowded ark
where men work food forges
attend their singular alchemies for few cents
Fill her green thermos with delicious scents
nourishment’s promise of wanting more
She’s a sylph, a fixed, pristine curve
Ascends from the sweat, heat and steam
of the night kitchen, her semaphor swerves
float up the fragrant well
slink, rising to an unvisoned street
Violins sing of delectable things
swirl of her hips, her high heeled dance
his handsome face, a lingering glance
drifts in the heart’s corridor.