4.27.2007

NaPoWriMo - Twenty-six

Forgot to post this yesterday. Don't have one for today, but taking into consideration the (admittedly cheap) found poem on the 25th, I'm calling it even. Not sure how many more will actually come.

Clouds gather, swarming together
with 3:30's fatigue.
A slow-moving evening
of lovemaking
awaits some,
some TV
or just sleep
but we'll all lock up
to go home
& come back in the morning,
except for the secretary
who's planning to kill herself
when the rain stops.

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4.25.2007

NaPoWriMo - Twenty-five (Plus a Bonus Found Poem!)

On time, but after another gap. Oh, well. A poem's a poem, despite its being crap.

Wait a minute... that smelled like a found poem, to me. Let's see:

On time
but after
another gap.
Oh, well.
A poem's
a poem
despite its
being crap.

Yep! Excellent. That counts as two for today. Anyway...

"Preemptive Retaliation Against Poets More Talented & Prolific Than Myself"


Gimmicky fools
& linguistic tools
the lot.
But, they've something
no one else has got:
I'll let you know later
what it is--
my mind
just now
is shot.

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4.24.2007

NaPoWriMo - Twenty-one & Twenty-two

A couple of late ones. I'm giving the 20th up for lost. We'll see about the 23rd (I didn't write one yesterday, but I may attempt an extra today).

"Things that are black"


Moleskine notebooks,
pencilings in which
sketch her skin.
Her hair.
Her skinny pants.
The ants in our kitchen
and the kitchen floor,
checkered with white.
The fireplace
on a summer morning.
Desiring to pocket the pencil
for good
& keep the quiet desperation
to myself.

--
"First Fire"

In April's cool sundown
a storm-felled pine
burns fast--
babies babble
ladies prattle
but I am quiet;
even the fire
has more to say
than me.

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4.19.2007

NaPoWriMo - Nineteen

I'm at work
and you turn one;
oh, how I wish
my work was done!

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4.18.2007

NaPoWriMo - Eighteen

"Hello & Song"

Greetings, all. Morning air
ripe with cool
wind

Into pavement, raindrops
into cracks
crags

Engine hums and complains.
In my car
alone.

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4.17.2007

NaPoWriMo - Seventeen

I too can write a rambling poem
without punctuation
because no one vocalizes punctuation
except of course Victor Borge
I need only to put your fingers
to the keys and repeat again & again
not stopping except to wonder
at something outside your window
like who's that guy in the brown hoodie
standing under the stop sign there
oh wait and a bus stop sign too
never mind
and what have I been writing
for the last 37 seconds
because my fingers are straining
my eyes are moving around the office
in and out of windows
faster than I could possibly record
and so much will be lost yet.

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NaPoWriMo - Thirteen

The careless masses
fling words about
like nuts and bolts discarded
by an accident-prone
yet successful mechanic

and complaints
about such usage
are not even wrong,
like string theory
or American Idol

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4.16.2007

NaPoWriMo - Sixteen

"Corporate Poetry no. 1"

April 16
IMPORTANT INFO
READ IMMEDIATELY!

Effective TODAY:
if you are sick
you will be required to bring
your own tissues to work;
they will no longer be provided
for you.
(We will continue
stocking toilet tissue,
for your convenience.)
(Purchasing, see if you can
return tissue boxes
unopened.)


HATS OFF TO ROY HARPER
(escrow agent)
As he was recently awarded
$500 for catching fraud!
Everyone else, remember:
keep your guard up
keep honing your crime-busting skills.
Subprime Lenders
are dropping like flies
and you too can be a hero!

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4.15.2007

NaPoWriMo - Fifteen

"Bad Poetry"

like speaking without
"uh"

I have hardly
written

a poem without
"the"

--
If you can't tell, I'm running out of steam, barely halfway through. I was working on poems the last two days, but never got around to finishing and/or posting them. Hence the self-deprecating attitude of today's mock-poem. I may fill in the gaps yet this month.

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4.12.2007

NaPoWriMo - Twelve

It would be good
I think
to be remembered,
if only for
my children--
even if only
by
my children,
maybe a friend
or two.

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4.11.2007

NaPoWriMo - Eleven

so much
worry

is forever
lost

in brown
eyes

when the
girl

you gently
hold

is your
daughter

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4.10.2007

NaPoWriMo - Ten

Workday crest.
Before the descent
to five, I rest.
I am barely alive.
I am no one
I am not my job
I am nothing.
Somewhere
an island sobs
uncontrollably.
Breathing deep
I press on
for you and for her.

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4.09.2007

NaPoWriMo - Nine

"From Here to Insanity"

First - Presently

My grip is loose.
It is always
the same day
the same place
and these people never
ever
Rhyme
(for spite, I think)
and the sun is hollow
behind April snow.

Second - Reflection

Hockey and beer
hockey and beer
hooray for everything
here!
Still
the snow falls
and anywhere else calls me
by name.

Third - Descent

Sleepy Jack, he loves
cream pies and creampies.
"Never mind the rest of her;
where'd you park the car?"

Fourth/Last - Narcoleptic Insanity

(the fire drill, in the distance)
Why is it raining so cold?
So many lives under the lids,
I am both young and old.
(is real)
Wake me again, again soon;
tomorrow is out there
walking, walking, and walking
Away
from today
and seems to delight in my absence.

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4.08.2007

NaPoWriMo - Eight

I've got nothin'.

Here are the lyrics to Maggie Mae:

Oh dirty Maggie Mae
they have taken her away
And she never walk down Lime Street any more

Oh the judge he guilty found her
For robbing a homeward bounder
That dirty no good robbin' Maggie Mae

To the port of Liverpool
They returned me to
Two pounds ten a week, that was my pay

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4.07.2007

NaPoWriMo - Seven

"On Accumulation"

It snowed again today.
Winter has been saving up
and bumped into Spring
arms full of snow.

We filled another box today
for our first house.
We've thrown out so much,
but the boxes pile up
in the in-laws' basement.
I can see the house now:
cupboards overflowing
with crap no one needs
like weeds in the lawn.

I blogged again today,
I can't stop
archiving and archiving.
Someday, something will
make me stop,
but the words will be out there forever
a crop no one wants.

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4.06.2007

NaPoWriMo - Six

"Death in the News"
(sketches)

Prayer

Lord by my consolation
Be not deaf to me; hear
me and remind me of Your Passion
when my death is near.

Entrance

To the casino, driving
he felt his blood pumping
in his back;
he'd win her back
or die trying.

Confession (tune: Daffodil Lament)

"I have decided
to leave you forever;
nothing you say can change
what I'm feeling.
Still, you look lovely today."

Purgation

She, the dealer
Hold 'em, the game;
He'd picked her table
so she'd be able
to see him die up close.
He pulled out the gun
and opened his mouth.
With a loud noise
he breathed his last.

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4.05.2007

NaPoWriMo - Five

April snows
and no one knows
the sun's address.
When will Spring
in her sundress
arrive?

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4.04.2007

NaPoWriMo - Four

"In Fidelity"

Women are easy
as subjects go, so long
as it's no woman I know.
Tall and thick
or short and soft
and pencil-thin,
they're everywhere I look--
where to begin?

And end, of course: at home.
You men who roam
don't know what you could have:
I know my way around my girl
her hands and back and calves
like sliding into my favorite jeans.
I know what every nod and gesture
means, that she is mine.
So go ahead and whore--
I want no more than her.

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4.03.2007

NaPoWriMo - Three

"Things that are Beautiful"

My wife. My daughter and her cries
And panty lines and butterflies.
Dolores's voice, high, cracking
Or Mama Cass, those two men
Backing her. Dreams & night.
That first Spring morning light
From the bright orange sun.
Pale, bare breasts and baby fat,
Soft lips, and silly rhymes--
Everything and everyone, at times.

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4.02.2007

NaPoWriMo - Two

We wonder who was here last.
The toilet needs flushing
and it smells like hard candy.

Only half the day has passed.
"You know, he's still pushing
for the move," whispers Mandy.

"I know, I know. He won't last
much longer here, crushing
morale like he does." "And, he

laughs that stiff laugh, like he's cast
in bronze, like he can't push
the nervousness down any

more." Release. The smell has passed.

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4.01.2007

NaPoWriMo - One

Today is small and tired;
the rain, the rain.
The rain came last night
and the streets are cleaner today,
dark wet. "Not yet", she says,
"we've got to wait.
We've got to." But I press on.
"Wait!" Wait? Of all the words
she could have said... wait.


My shirt is untucked
and I am worn.
Torn from her crudely, by her,
as one tears out magazine inserts
I walk home
and the rain starts again.
Once home, my clothes are dark wet
and I cannot get clean:
my sister beat me to the shower
saying, "You're only seventeen,
why shouldn't you smell like that?"

---
NaPoWriMo '07 begins today, & I think I've got it in me. I imagine many of my entries will be untitled, as is this one, but I hope to come back to them all in turn, at which time titles will be bestowed, where due.

That said, get to it, people! There's poems afoot!

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