Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Stranger's Weight in Fireflies Haiku


 
dark street
someone’s weight in fireflies
suddenly takes off

*

before dawn
a stranger’s footprints
cold ocean fills

*

beach before dawn
in dark fragments
finding myself

*

before dawn
where waves break
my thoughts break

*

Descartes, a crow
seeing the world
seeing its beak

*

walk miles of sand
to get from ocean
dark wave energy

*

spring window
an aphid
draws in my breath

*

walking miles
next to waves breaking
everything I know

*

snowy vineyard
a fox and a crow
pretend they’re strangers

*

cherry blossoms
two crows chase
absolutely nothing

*

my little black cat
rubs her fangs on me
her strange pet

*

pencil on my desk
next to a few shark teeth
its ancient fang sharp

*

morning reaches
the far side of the river
before us

*

spring goddesses
the lady with 37 cats
disgusts and awes

*

streetlights twinkle
out in the dark river
a piece of you swims

*

a goose neck
in morning glories
we’re not ourselves

*

moving an aphid
from bathwater to plant
a born-again drunk

*

mother says
teeth marks 
on sea things

*

it’s not just
an aphid on my finger
it’s a “rescue-aphid”

*

sparrows take
milky splash baths
in potholes we curse

*

the mouse hole…
nature leaks in
a nuclear plant

*

a mouse hole…
nature checks out
our nuclear deal

*

dragonfly hovers
in a cooling tower’s
nuclear breath

*

sealed nuclear
power plant in the river
dragonflies visit

*

moonlight
like Brahms
for dragonflies

*

a thunderstorm
sweeps the flags
off all graves

*

hissing rain sheets
old woman who died years ago
again sweeps our street

*

long ago
in the wind
witches sang

*

the kiss
first draft
witchcraft

*

the bobcat
climbs and climbs
spring ideas

*

picking wildflowers
a field once our house
our dog guards below

*

raking leaves
my dead neighbor’s dead dog’s ball
rolls out

*

my old street
only familiar faces
the clouds

*

buried child
a plastic kickball
hides in the basement

*

he keeps keys
to houses and beds
long gone

*

moon shines
coldly on a ladder
apple pickers forgot

*

a stone thrown
into the dark river
makes good time

*

late night rain walk
the past’s umbrella
opens its arms

*

heavy rain
falling asleep
between sympathy cards

*

in a pinch
headlights in rain
for moonlight

*

humans
the future’s
unreadable format

*

that sunflowers climb
that sometimes people fall
naked from the sky

*

a field stone
for doorstoop
blunt speech of home

*

a crow’s cry
just beyond a windowsill’s
glass button jar

*

her clothes donated
her glass jar
of buttons stays

*

shaving
the old cedar box
for new scent

*

Stone Age ends
stones struggle
to find work

*

surf pebbles
toss-talk
in their sleep

*

dark country roads
trees much taller
than their houses

*

forest walk
the clock’s blood pressure
much lower

*

slow tortoise…
envying rust
on its elbows

*

hay-tumble verdict–
again please but something less
than Evermore Street

*

night earthquake
dress shop mannequins feel
their first orgasm

*

ancient crack
in a teacup
holding it together

*

men merely dead
or truly dead
her smile tells you

*

usually
skip prefaces
but this morning fog…

*

drowned school jock
dark river had all winter
pops up on prom night

*

deep down
on the river bottom
all the free things

*

funeral home
the caskets cracked open
faint cries of porn

*

dark deli
lobsters in a tank
fight over bubbles

*

coffin shopping
he chooses a finish
that goes with his car
















Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger for Pexels

Saturday, April 27, 2019

A Magazine in the U.K. with a Great Poetry Archive

I was very gratified to learn I had some poems accepted for an upcoming issue of  Ink, Sweat & Tears, a U.K. based magazine.

Here's a brief synopsis of the journal's history from the website:  "IS&T was founded by Salt author Charles Christian in 2007 as a platform for new poetry and short prose, and experimental work in digital media. Charles ran the site single-handedly, publishing new work every day till 2010, when now sole editor, poet and artist Helen Ivory came on board as Deputy Editor."

Publisher Kate Birch and Editor/Poet Helen Ivory now pilot this vessel. And their cumulative acumen has crafted a  literary journal of ensorcelling wiles.

I really enjoyed the haiku in the magazine's archive. Here is a sample. And another one. And check out these wild haiku of Andrew Pidoux.

Here are some poems by Helen Ivory which I enjoyed. I particularly liked "What the House Said." Her poems have a deadly-serious playfulness and a brashness, qualities that remind me of Stevie Smith's blithe darkness. 

Thursday, April 25, 2019

Some Poetry Acceptances


I'm very happy to have had work accepted this week for upcoming issues of Presence (U.K.) and Failed Haiku.

Presence is a print journal. I would highly recommend subscribing if you enjoy haiku, senryu, tanka, haibun and related forms of poetry. Ian Storr makes great selections, so I find myself returning to the journal for multiple readings. Each issue has the richness you'd expect of an anthology.

Failed Haiku (the title is a sly way to tell you the magazine publishes senryu) is consistently exciting and brash. I've never visited the site and not had a great time and had my mind expanded in the bargain. Mike Rehling does a wonderful job of editing that every month (yes, it comes at you roughly every thirty days!)

May's issue of FH is being edited by the wonderful Kala Ramesh. There's a metaphysical quality to many of her haiku, so I look forward to seeing how the issue shapes up. Here's a really interesting essay by Ramesh, "Silences as Seen in Indian Aesthetics.  


Monday, April 8, 2019

Floated-Outside-It Haiku





gentle rain
into the river
barely talking

*

meteor shower
somehow somehow
the promise

*

having died
long before this Monet
we’re evenly matched

*

distant night train
an egg’s armor
begins to crack

*

green peeling staircase
paint every year
greener in memory

*

invisible girl
orange peels
for a city block

*

finding purple shells
low tide babbling
in our purple prose

*

watch a snake…
imagine it with hands
smacking its rosary

*

a loving mother
eats her children’s
gnat clouds

*

t.v. news
moth’s searing love of the bulb–
forgotten safeword

*

before he jumps, his joy
knowing a dark river
feels nothing

*

antifreeze leaks
the moon’s reflection
in a cold puddle

*

you wake to a mirror
speaking an unknown dialect
of moonlight

*

distant gunshot
so far away the sound
a lid crawling off

*

soft shell crab night–
we hear someone
eating a coffin

*

bacon strip
you eat a pig’s burn
ape orgasm

*

high school years later
lab’s floating pig fetus
only face i recall

*

buying meal worms on credit
he realizes his children
are watching

*

dark parked car
playing Bizet for fireflies
no one else

*

Christmas morning
dark centuries
open their presence

*

walking home alone
leaving drunk fireflies clearly
trying too hard

*

waking at night
promising darkness
things, things

*

fireflies
just seem to want more
every year

*

night airport
tired moonlight
coming and going

*

bales of hay
the crow at morning
a preacher

*

crickets in frost
cross the same field as me
as zero

*

dark autumn pond
reflections misquoting
like the rest of us

*

night hires
standing at the door
more reptile jackets

*

shuttered GOLD’s gym
geese preen in the lot
clones stretching

*

summer pond
child asks a small fish:
“which one’s your mother?”

*

beery winds
through dark branches
of downtown trees

*

twenty minnows
swam into me tonight
then a huge moon

*

balcony slouching a woman slouching there on it smoking made of straw

*

desert winds
tree widows their branches
moaning Kama Sutra

*

two story trees
violet membranes
bottled-up in paint

*

abandoned merely
cuz she is a skeleton
poor tree

*

juicy plum
(the joke in stars)
anything waits

*

spring breeze
you suddenly realize
he’s older on top

*

charles schwab
downtown wall fakes
lower case airs









Sunday, April 7, 2019

Has There Ever Been...

Has there ever been a novel or other work of fiction in which the protagonist was a pet rock?

I'm guessing the answer is likely "no."

But I'm feeling this surge of hope...

And my keyboard is saying to me, "You have fingers; I have an alphabet; what's the problem here?"


Interesting factoid: "Pet Rocks are smooth stones from Mexico's Rosarito Beach."

I wasn't aware they all came from the same beach. Shouldn't I be worried about potential inbreeding?



Long Live Zines!

Jessy Kendall, editor of the long-running zine letterfounder, wrote me out of the lexical blue with a kind request to share one of my poems in his monthly.

There are other manifestations online.

I really love the visual headiness of that.

I grew up on zines: reading them, doing them, reviewing them, loving them. So it's great to see the continuation of that in some quarters.

Thanks, Jessy. I look forward to receiving that in the mail. And I look forward to floating through your online art and poetry menageries.




Thursday, April 4, 2019

Things I Almost Buy on EBAY: Sauna hat, Russian Banya cap, Saunahattu, Saunahut, mütze, כובע לסאונה felt

Sometimes I come so close to buying an object just for the sheer otherworldly qualities it possesses.

See, this hat feels like a vital appurtenance of a former life calling out to me: "Here I am, your sauna hat! You dropped me in the field on the way back from talking to Niemenin about his goat's dyspepsia. I'm sure you felt the pangs of my absence! I languished in the wildflowers three whole nights. But no worry! Now we are reunited. Let us return to the church of super-heated rocks and love one another, as in the comforting winter nights of old."

Plus, it's only twelve bucks.

And it reminds me of an ancient Buddhist bell.