Poetic Strains

Thought fog displacement
replenish the ice cubes
gaze at high 90 night (F of course)

conversational stir
swirled picture frames
refocus on the screen

a penny for thoughts
a thought for pennies
but gas is way more

simple news about wars,
weather, whatever -
heat crimes

thankful for the end
which passes understated
ready for the rewrite

Functional

This is one hot day
and after staring at
several months worth
of chaos
it's starting to wear

but chaos
is what's on
the menu
for now
sure is hot out

Farther Reach

there are other days
when i can't believe
it will all be ok
because of this neglect
and that one

every day
has its own
even though
by tomorrow
it all seems the same

1000 yesterdays ago
(it's not so long)
the people I knew
would still be here
as I now know

most of them
anyway

Tired

is a state of mind

could I just rest here a while
in uffish thought
while you whiffle past
through this tulgy wood

I'm sure you know better
than I, else
why would I be sitting here
like this

['Jabberwocky' memorized in early August of 1979]

Magna Interview

The Magna interview is posted today. Nearly every Sunday, one of the thirty or so people who contribute to the Magnapoets blog are interviewed. Today it's my turn. Five easy questions, five responses. There is quite a variety of poetry on the Magnapoets site, with some very good writers contributing. Have a look!

Link to "Distilling by Drops on a Friday Evening".

Retune for Whoever

Let me not to the tension of four strings
Allow in dissonance. Tunes are not tuned
Which falter with inharmonic ringings
No matter what melody to be crooned.
Oh, ho! A is A and never to be mocked
Though harmonica voice may bend and break.
My tuning meter shall be ere locked
On frequency solid, unbent, no mistake.
And in those jam sessions, where banjo may jangle
And mandolins twingle and guitar chords twangle
The fiddle shall need to blessed from the angle
Of digits on wires, ringing true like triangle
And yet, take Grappelli, or Ponty, even Bell
Masters of bent note make it sound - oh so well.

(The experienced reader will recognize the ruined shreds of sonnet 116)

Gift Beyond Words

il y a des jours où
je n'ai pas des mots
pour vous,
pour moi

je suis désolé
parce qu'il y a
beaucoup
à dire

aujourd'hui,
un jeune garçon
a apporté un crapaud
pour le jardin

je n'ai jamais eu
un tel cadeau
"il mangera des limaces," il a dit -
et maintenant il est parti

* * * * * * * * * * *

there are days when
I don't have words
for you,
for me

I'm sorry,
because
there's a lot
to say

today,
a young boy
brought a toad
for the garden

I've never had
such a gift
"it will eat slugs," he said -
and now he's gone

* * * * * * * * * * *

Illumination

xenonic reflection
image capture
and relax

Preventative Maintenance

Time out, the dull edge needs attention
lest like an overwrought bird in a storm
the magnetic path home be lost

so here, under this rocky ledge,
rest awhile, resharpen
the daily navigation tools

it is enough to stop
a senseless beating
of beak upon rock

Crumbling Cliff

Too late, and too far
accelerative pull does its work
faster than firm footing recovery

All was prepared, all turning
but past performance is hardly
any predictor at all today

Dreamlike futile run, reach,
the reality sinks in and down
oh, to fly for just a few moments

Look over, look over,
find emptiness where
so much of late had been

Board / Ambition

nothing says ambition
like the lines in this face
crossing a mere half century,
not much in the life of some trees
or ancient nation morphology

pretention may carry the moment
sustain the delusion, provide
cracks through which to seep
but this pass too shall be left
walked upon by others to come

how liftingly needed
lake-supported skies
in times of missed glory
but questions come and go,
and leave their mark

wall construct gazes
past counted moments,
this waitless reach
unaware beyond reason
if nothing else

Mind the Gap

what isn't said
at times
speaks so loudly

a look, a gesture
and the deal is off
or on, as may be

overdone interest
invites distance
nearly every time

step up carefully
watch where you're going
and mind the gap

Oligoglot

A speaker of few languages
Spanish French German
or a mélange thereof

it used to be this way
studied deliberately
midwestern evenings

Few nearby speak so
it is mostly gone
though shreds remain

My former language friends
have gone on to study Italian
I miss them

'il ragazzo mangia la pizza'
(the boy eats pizza)
is as far as i've gotten

easily lost
without continued
neural workouts

Go and Make Some Hay!

Imagine the farmer of, say,
even 50 years ago
watching his son spend hours
at the computer

if you'll excuse me for a moment,
I think I'd better go out and mow the lawn.

After the freeway

the old golden 10 speed
sailed the gravel roads
freely, alone

the young boy
skinny, so skinny
riding easily

over hills,
past cows and
plowed fields

how much
for a day
like that?

A morning memory

fine young man
gone several months now -
the image remains