I did watch OJ’s car

but that doesn’t count. Kirk Gibson’s home run… But I’ve seen them both in rerun so many times I can’t remember what’s real and what is…real(?)

See: Margo’s prompt

Advice to a Young Anything

Because you’ll begin,
before long at all, to see yourself
in the sand box as if it were your memory,

you should keep a journal.
And by hand, on paper. Bound
(to keep yourself honest).

And only allow yourself crossouts–no erasures.
Then you can tell the self you’ll become
not that you saw a man walk on the moon,

but how, as time crawled up to the steps
you sat on the floor in the den
and ate Life, dry from the box.

Meta-conceptual wordle

IMG_2933-0Wordle

sing we down the vegetable aisle

sing we down the vegetable aisle
where revolution shines
where everything old is new again
out with the hybrids: heirlooms in
fie on genetic redesign

dedicated, sing we belief
review resolve turn back renew
demand we the wealth
tomatoes heady as wine
strawberries, corn, tasting of sun
pumpkins as food, not shelter or style
sing we rebellion
singing we win

high-ho the vegetable aisle
where revolution shines
where everything old is new again
out with the hybrids: heirlooms in
diversity not design
sing we down the aisles.

An Oracle of Sunrise

The Final Prompt from Red Wolf Poems, successor in spirit to the website of my birth.

imageSo Long

Falling Into It

A bright morning rising, juicy with suspense,
hinting an iceberg’s mass more than meets the eye.
Will the wind kick up and toss money at me?
A flame, as light, can only suggest its heat.
Can what starts with morning breath end in romance?

The clouds are pinkly gold and small. The sweet
next-to-nothing pastels at some wedding reception
in shell-shaped silver. The sun is an orange
and cracks its peel in a spray of fragrant portent
A bright morning rising, juicy with suspense.

I am a foul morning remainder, trailing poltergeists.
Hair like slept-in grass, crusts, funks, slimes.
How does the sunrise seem clean every morning yet,
with only a curve of light like the arch of a brow,
hinting an iceberg’s mass more than meets the eye.

If I read good fortune in the morning
and take my bowl of raisin bran to the porch,
stand to let the light and shadow meet
across my rusty toes, and beg:
Will the wind kick up and toss money at me?

With the sun’s butt and shoulders still below the dirt
and the candy clouds and the sky so tall
and everything unsullied by yesterday, judgment
might be seen as relenting. Can I dream, knowing
a flame, as light, can only suggest its heat.

Changing light and changing colors. It’s day,
not dark, that means the loosing of all constraints.
Spread your rays at my feet, sun, read me
a fortune like a Sunday funnies fantasy.
Can what starts with morning breath end in romance?

Wordle at the end of the year

Words compliments of The Sunday Whirl

IMG_2920

 

Jester’s New Year’s Toast
a Terza-Nelle

Coming soon, friends and neighbors: a new year.
Hey-a! Amen to the old. So be it. Adios.
Put your bells on, chums. Enter tomorrow with cheer.
Damned, or holy, let yesterday give up its ghost.
Toast it. And laughing. Trash those silent sighs,
say amen to the past. So be it, adios.

And if the new arrival is that nasty surprise
–the pale, toothy monster born just to ingest us–
well, toast it too, and laughing. No martyrly sighs:
we will jingle and chime as it tries to digest us.
We’ll go down, not alone, but a riot. Kicking
the pale monster born to ingest us.

Or, if tomorrow comes like a plain brown stray, licking
wagging, dragging us down, out, into the rainy night
we’ll go down. But not alone, a laughing riot, kicking
our heels, clicking, whistling, singing like the mighty.
Coming soon, friends and neighbors, a New Year
bouncing, dragging us down, out, into the night.

Put your bells on, chums. Hey-a! Enter tomorrow with cheer.

Response: Red Wolf Poems

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In the Age of Our Machines

To maintain a sound body and an agile brain
today’s woman swims against a current of ease.
To do what early woman did by chance: we will train.

Our primitive forebear’s tight butt and abdomen,
got a good workout when she ran back to the trees
to maintain a sound body and an agile brain.

We must however squat, thrust, hold, exale, and strain
in scheduled slots, outside the day’s activities,
To do what earlier was done by chance. We will train.

The primitive gal didn’t much need the regimen–
as bending, running and climbing were necessities.
To maintain a sound body and that agile brain,

she subtracted time from distance, used tradition
as a guide, survived. We can’t chew gum and shoot the breeze.
To do what early woman did by chance. We will train.

What circumstance forced on her, we pay for, complain
and bring ourselves in line to do again. Because
to maintain a sound body an an agile brain,
to do what once women did by chance, we have to train.

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An Oracle for Red Wolf Poems