NaPo 4/22

"Etiquette"

The crow flaps down
beside the car-struck squirrel.
He pauses,
then seems almost to bow,
as if a formal introduction is obligatory
before making off
with someone's eyeball.

NaPo 4/21

"Spark"

After the rain,

there's only hush;

residual trickle

from leafedge and twig

sussurates in the grass.

The night is mute

until

one cricket twinkles.

NaPo 4/20

"Reveille"

A rattle of pops,

fusillade of joint cracks,

tendon clicks and creaks:

sleep-taut flesh folds, bends, twists,

yelps, yields --

sunrise yoga.

NaPo 4/19

"Nectar"

The honeysuckle stretches its tendrils

into the sun,

blossoms unfolded for the bee;

you reach out for me,

blouse open

with your need.

NaPo 4/18

"Recessional"

Wet brown leaves

paper the path,

flatten underfoot

missing fall's usual rustle.

Sometimes the end comes

with a hushed step.

NaPo 4/17

"Remnants"

"Fiat lux."

Creation is always messy;

no one gets it right the first time.

Looking carefully, one will find what's left behind --

fractured attempts, twisted discards,

abortive bits.

See? The night sky is littered

with the detritus of light.

NaPo 4/16

"Noon"

The glittering, intricate mechanism

of the yellowjacket

dawdles along in the sun,

sauntering back to the nest

for a short siesta.

NaPo 4/15

"Weeds"

Sometimes I just want to forget

the names of things

for the wonder of rolling them on the tongue again

for the first time:

. . . .spatterdock

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . teasel

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .vetch

NaPo 4/14

"Fluffage"

"When I Ate Lucinda's Liver" shows disturbingly remarkable insight

into the role of erotic cannabalism in contemporary society.

* * *

I haven't been so deeply moved by a poetic discussion

of how to field dress a deer

since reading Sir Gawain and the Green Knight as an undergraduate.

* * *

Who could have imagined that replacing the head gasket on a Honda SOHC4

could be such an intense emotional rollercoaster?

* * *

I was truly enchanted by your profoundly poetic rendering

of the classic "Sam and Janet Evening"

knock-knock joke.

* * *

It would never have crossed my mind that so many different ways

of preparing frog legs as a gourmet delicacy

could have been so exhaustively rendered in rhyming dactylic hexameter triplets.

Seriously.

* * *

The notion of recasting The Iliad as a feud between rival Mafia families

is truly staggering,

as is the choice of the limerick

as the basic stanza pattern for the whole piece.

I simply cannot give adequate expression to my feelings

at the thought there are 23 books still to go.

* * *

NaPo 4/13

"Film"

Moisture shrouds the rounded river pebble

by the path;

bare molecules deep, that sheath harbors the sun

within itself

and veils the stone with light.

Remarkable how the fragile

can contain such radiance.

NaPo 4/12

"Straw"

What dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs,

What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things . . . .
-- Alexander Pope, The Rape of the Lock, I, ll. 1- 2.

I didn't throw all your clothes out the apartment window
just because you've been carrying on with that skank Darisha;
I didn't back the truck over your DVD collection
just because you were out screwing her
while I was in the hospital giving birth to your son;
I didn't wrap your cellphone in three of his crappy diapers
just because you gave me the clap you got from her;
no, I'm finally and totally throwing your fat, lazy, sad ass out
because you gave her the same
diamondette necklace and plastic roses you gave me
for Valentine's Day.

NaPo 4/11

"Syllabus"

X - Treme Yoga

This course is for those who have

nothing left to lose.

Please sign the Liability Release Form

and the Medical Power of Attorney

before beginning the first session.

Warm-up: The Look-I've-Found-A-Sweatbee-Nest Salutation

Pose I: The Spoiled Child's Tantrum

Pose II: The Feeding Anaconda Twist

Pose III: The Two-Humped Camel

Pose IV: The Buttered Crescent Roll

Pose V: The Contorted Flowering Quince

Pose VI: The Plummeting Mountaintop Bend

Pose VII: The Rotating Paddlewheel

Pose VIII: The Bewildered Squid

Pose IX: The I-Never-Thought-I'd-Get-To-See-That-Part-Of-My-Body Fold

Pose X: The Forward-Stretched Hexagonal Unfurling Lotus Blossom

Cool-down: The Defunct Jellyfish Flop

NaPo 4/10

"Karma"

"Imagine yourself as a pebble . . . ."

-- Thich Nhat Hanh

Ah, if only I were,

then I'd tell my enemies

with literal precision:

"Bite me!"

NaPo 4/9

"Driftwood"

"Soon you, too, will lose

all interest in your past."

-- Susan Musgrave

All knots and scars assuaged

by the surge of the sea,

I lie at the tide's furthest reach,

unassailed and at rest.

NaPo 4/8

NOTE: Today's attempt is a concrete piece which

wouldn't format properly here, so instead here's a

link which should take you to the piece (although

there have been occasional board glitches, so at

points the link might not work for a few minutes):

"Snuggle"

NaPo 4/7

"Legacy"

Let's get this straight right now:
I have no intention of going quietly.
Dignity be damned, I fully intend to raise one hell of a ruckus;
it's going to take more than one team of horses
to drag me off, and even then they'd better be Percherons.

And make no mistake about it: I'm not going alone.
What's worse than being hauled off
is everything else going on just the same
without me.
Well, screw that! When I'm gone,
you're going to know it,
and you're never going to forget it.
Or me.

Because when I go, I'm taking out of the world with me
every last shred of wisteria --
root, vine, leaf, blossom, scent,
even any bees who happen to be mining nectar at the decisive moment.
There'll only be this great big blank wisteria-shaped hole
left behind in spring

We'll see who forgets who then.

So you better get your ass moving
and carpe your diem right now
if you want to enjoy it at least once more,
because I don't know just how long I've got left
and already this morning I'm feeling
a mite faint.

__________

NaPo 4/6

"Pizzicato"

The dragonfly flickers

above the shimmering stream --

staccato run in pitch and silver.

NaPo 4/5

"Debutante"

She descends the spiral staircase
of the lavender blossoms,
poises on the last to bow,
then rises to join the hive's cotillion
swirling in the sun.

NaPo 4/4

"In . . . "

"In . . ."

1959, this poem, with its perfect DA
and its Chesterfields rolled up in its t-shirt sleeve,
would have pulled its Chevy up in front of your house
and honked its horn for you to come out,
and opened the door for you and your poodle skirt from inside,
making your parents more than a little nervous
as it gunned the engine and the worn-out glasspacks
growled away down the street
like a troubled rumble of distant thunder.
This poem would have rushed you out past the city limits
to the drive-in over the river and helped you into the back seat
and out of your poodle skirt and joined you
in fogging up the windows while teenaged werewolves
silently pursued their own passions unregarded
outside those windows in the damp darkness.
In other words, this poem would have poured out
all those passions for you that I would have
if it hadn't been 1959 and we hadn't only been 14
and I hadn't been scared to death of your father
and, to come right down to it, you.

NaPo 4/3

"Enduring"

Even after the storm
has stripped the beech's leaves
and littered the ground with twigs,
the poison ivy vine still
cleaves to the trunk
like a guilty conscience.

NaPo Entry 4/2

"Canticle"

Tattered tufts of cattails

lift above the rain-filled ditch,

prayer flags winterworn to threads

answered by wet green points thrust up

into light.

NaPoWriMo '11

Here beginneth National Poetry Writing Month 2011:

"Prime"

Some mornings no sun

salutation can unknot

night's clenched jaw.

4/1