(Another re-write of) She Moved Through the Fair

(Another re-write of) She Moved Through the Fair

 

"My Mama won't mind and

Papa won't slight you

as not the same kind

Then away she stepped

to say:

“It won’t be long, love

till our wedding day"

Fondly I watched  her  

move here, move there
and as one star awoke

she turned toward home                                              

and like an evening swan

moves on a still lake

she moved through the fair

 

Between Here and There

Lies a great distance

Between night and day

lives mishap and chance

Some say, no two were wed

without sorrows unsaid
I smiled as she passed

toting goods and gear
but that was the last

I ever saw of my dear

The winds of the night

Sing songs from beyond

shadows and moonlight

drift over the pond

Last night she came to me

my dead love came softly
She laid a hand on me

and sweetly whispered

"It will not be long, love,

'til our wedding day"

Fondly I watched  her  

move here, move there
and as one star awoke

she turned toward home                                                          

and like an evening swan

moves on a still lake

she moved through the air

Today's poem - Day of the Cicada

Day of the Cicada

 

When jeweled princesses hop the moebius strip at Monte Carlo

and undular snow leopards camouflage in black-tie casino queues

When the Grand Wazoo of all creation reveals a weary countenance

and silver-gowned women pose cigarettes-holders like Jean Harlow

When snowy citizens advance in dreaming herds like rams and ewes

and grand dames and grandees with frozen smiles distantly dance

When stylish sexless rituals by societal pressure auto-coagulate

and dunces in corners and scowling judges all mannerisms regulate

the Day of the Cicada has visited itself upon our unholy habitation

today's poem - "Mongrammed Suitcase" (oh, dear! I'm a few days behind - I will need to catch up!)

Monogrammed Suitcase

When in the coarse of shoe man vents

mutational hibiscus stove subsumptions  

percolate restricted Santa Claus

es flowering through chimbley abruptions

of laryngeal fowlers to know penetrating

secret oils deriving pie bird wilderness

ventilation and scintillation formation

throughout time-history’s flux

  

Words be saying that the minds be thinking

weft with cosmic culverts and comfort-

-abilities under-clothed in noteworthy effluence

as pop-open-locks popover to unplume exit debris

our heroes exhume for comestibles and shaving cream

in moving motel homes crisscrossing fallen

oompah sunny day highway skies turned metallic

in innocent times - today's poem

in innocent times

back when I was writing The Great Idiot Novel of Metangello my lazy friends came over and we were talking about the woman all covered in gold poling a solar barque into a beautiful afterworld when suddenly she appeared before us in the room at eye level floating séance-like along on silver stream diamonds of air all golden million pinpoints then poof she was gone which fairly shut us up until Omar said, okay, pretend that never happened and never talk about it again, right? And with that we went on to reciting untranslated Cicero

seasonal headgear

seasonal headgear

deluxe winter hats

are too hot in summertime

too dark and furry

Another Today's Poem -- "Your Name"

Your Name

 

Blindly I fly mothlike into flame

the glow of fire flickers in my eyes

and at the sound of your name

selling to your highest bidding suitor

I set up to burst and ignite

as the night sweats around me

 

To be a small-winged heat seeker

bent on demise, never seeking relief  

and powerless to shun averse feelings

unable unwilled unthinking unstoppable

in flames I seek the sound of your name

and disentangle from my dreamless life

 

Distressed I dart in carelessness

vacant in toothless headlong witless  

burning name-echo-pursuing quest

directionless inside night’s dark air

in unknown whirlpools of invisibility

and count lucky stars as each goes out    

 

a soul drawn relentless by magnetics

mingled end over end in your darkling haze

a glow of flickering fire in my eyes

rocking back and forth before I dive

and the sound of your name being sold

mothlike, blindly I disappear in flames

"Climate Change Hastens Advances" another today's poem (satire trigger alerts)

Climate Change Hastens Advances

 

Cooperative militarizing of the arctic

is succeeding and proceeding apace -

brilliant human triumphs bloom there

 

Strategic landmasses for launching troops

universally to the Northern hemisphere

are a panacea of peace and security for all

 

Thawing of previously barren, icy lands -

a surprising windfall of convenient prospects

will manufacture positive versions of events

 

Peace missions and projectiles will be aimed

to enjoy shorter quicker courses and replies

when any hint of things going awry is suspected

 

Artic bases are ideal for quelling dissent

among ever-troublesome populaces

who keep eyes upon pasts not futures

 

Our leaders will now be able to wallow

and bask like fierce beasts in arctic sun

sure in their knowledge of global controls

 

As we replace with intense mobilized hope

the former weak-kneed namby-pamby ism                            

Our putsch of total combative desire will climax

 

in a diasporic aura of good feelings and warmth

like a woman relaxing and enjoying herself

and a man in pleasure before girding for battle

 

if each of us hews to its proper rung of the hierarchy

it will conduct us into a winning new world where

endless battles create endless spasms of delight

 

 

dawn after rain - today's poem

dawn after rain

watery thought pools

in thin reflective puddles  

mirror fox gray skies

the usual thing - another poem for today

the usual thing

 

daylight accompanies woodpecker noise through cracked-open windows clearly sharply across fields and meadows where horses later shake their manes against rising day

 

disintegrating selves position on ramparts sieging every particular of individual identity as wind rustles tall prairie grasses whistling slightly in passing

 

day deteriorates    human noise abides  aerial     highway

interference like radio static    it coping-saws time to fit

erstwhile pilgrim activity    amidst see-sawing snow falling

 

technically abandoned      left to rot       like a Studebaker in rain       rust and mildew and vegetation     whipsaw the proceedings       investing      wreck with abandon  

    

a    stage     five      disaster  area      freeforms     explosively         uneven         tottering      tragedies

of form        stop time fallen         hysteria      blooms

 

not       wish           glaring           vagrant         flagrant  indifferent              unnatural           weasel like            nothingnesses             drift         

'treble geezer' today's poem (each stanza a haiku)

treble geezer

 

though a physics whiz

Einstein wasn’t a ghastly

gentrified boxer

 

much like masterful  

gorillas glorifying

glitterati golf

 

proof in the pudding

was in the preparations

and ingredients

 

today's poem: "bean sandwich #9" (number 9, number 9)

bean sandwich #9

choice crusty bread

beans baked benevolently

we hanker for more

Today's poem "Is Jurgen's Lotion made in Muncie or Kokomo?"

 

Is Jurgen’s Lotion made in Muncie or Kokomo?

 

No, but car radios were in which one, along with

Mr Mustard but I know I am you are wrong about it

cornfields differ from Lebanon about the same as

 

Crawfordsville and that lotion which isn’t made

glider rockers on the Ohio as Tell shot arrows

up by Fort Wayne somewhere in  buses and RVs

 

with pioneer dudes riding around in horse carriages

with 19^th century watermelons grown down on sandhills

Hoosiers anything they put their mind mining coal to

 

is masterpiece basketball from the past strawberries

flat bottom land roads no traffic in any direction

lapsing into the engine noise ricocheted everywhere

 

train whistles blowing 500 miles once a milk bottle

yearly extenuating Benjamin Harrison and Jimmy Hoffa

Brazil on down to Bean Blossom and the WPA lakes

 

snow covering State Park card tournaments weekenders

on Mars Hill the topographic maps read themselves

a kind of stalking antique map in stifling humidity

 

in full effort sugar maple camps sap runs boil

100 miles of high school wind farms past the old bend

a thousand bats in rock jacket patches flying nights

today's poem - "Unclogging Stink Holes"

Unclogging Stink Holes

-all work is ennobling

 

With a pole I muck the sewage holes

as sound slurps sweetly in and out with my labor

I heave, sweat, grimace, and grunt

until suddenly a great onrush begins

sewage sucking out and releasing

to relieve itself down into the stink hole

 

My groaning, knee-weakening work slowly ended

I take my rest: smoke, nap, and croon

 

Although all today’s pressures have relaxed

tomorrow I must return for more reaming

with more rigorous churning actions

using the pole I clean after each messy use

to make it smooth and ready for plunging

 

It’s hard work, sure- but very rewarding

a boon to those leery of doing strenuous,

foul-smelling work alone in the dark –

I can do it to convenience my clientele

and it makes me glow with a guilty pleasure

as I work resolutely in desolate shadows

George Haiku Washington - today's poem

George Washington

He won our freedom

- first elected president

but the dude owned slaves!

Cubist Alter Piece - today's poem

 

Cubist Alter Piece

 

Galloping scientists clip clop to Fagioli

to escape ghastly Gallic garlic gastronomy

a light what-doing of un-things what-done

 

Say you would freezeframe like a comic coyote  

that you might break free from routine thinking

and certain miserly moments mimed by monotonists

 

When gackling outside seaside circumambient gulls

ungallantly gag on begrudging un-swallowed gravel

take a beat to ask yourself twice what year it is

 

Them fenceposts fly past like time tunnel hoops

as you employ kempt crisis management fundamentals

gleefully grasping at things bypassing unknown

 

Seen wearing gorilla garlands, contestants gabble

overland in high speed 360 degree transit globes

as gleeful gadabout whataboutits say this phrase:

 

Galloping scientists clip clop to Fagioli

to escape ghastly gallic garlic gastronomy

a light what-doing of un-things what-done

Today's poem - Occam's Lawn Mower

Occam’s Lawn Mower

never take the path

of least resistance just to

gain the upper hand

today's haiku - "Hiking Break, Chilkoot Trail

Hiking Break, Chilkoot Trail

bare feet, ice cold stream  

wiggling my toes in outback

wilderness magic

 

today's poem - New Jersey Nocturne

New Jersey Nocturne

fingers streaming light

asleep in a slow dream’s wake

in rows of moonbeams 

today's poem - evening prelude (another haiku)

evening prelude

perfumed air drifts by

moonlit-hazed conversation

women sip white wine

today's poem - Thank you very much

Thank you very much

King of rock and roll

King sell-out of cinema

Died on his toilet