Friday, January 28, 2011

Fire is the safe place


Fire is the safe place
where monsters fear to tread,
Frankenstein's sad creature
and the living dead.

Zombies and the Morlocks
all tremble at the flame,
killer ghosts and bogeymen
and those I cannot name.

Blood-chillers warm in comfort
before the yellow blaze,
the gruesomer the better
to keep the eyes aglaze.

Such tales around the campfire
we safely to are drawn,
and pray that they are over
before the flame is gone.



*     *     *     *

placed in Poets United Think Tank #33: Fire


Thursday, January 27, 2011

All the old posters are gone


 

All the old posters are gone,
once tacked to my wall:
Scott Madsen, Marky Mark, et al.
I had to move on.

Now the walls seem plain
without those it-boys of then —
but I'm not without sin:
they're still tacked to my brain.


Wednesday, January 26, 2011

word cloud


puff of passion
electrically charged
words in fashion
labels enlarged

writ in a cloud
floating away
cumulus proud
into the fray


Sunday, January 23, 2011

The forgotten philosophers


Beyond games with words and shadow-cast forms,
outside distinctions made with stark either-ors,

the forgotten philosophers hide in the margin —
hiring them though would seem quite a bargain

over the monotonous drone of bumble bee pundits
from hives of jives and think-tank fund-its.

Unsettling the lore of conventional wisdoms,
how rare to hear from these creators of 'ism's.



*     *     *     *

placed in Poets United Think Tank #35: Shadows


Friday, January 21, 2011

When Johnny comes marching home


Where have you been Johnny Weir Johnny Weir
when you hid in furs and sequins?
Where have you been Johnny Weir Johnny Weir
when you hid in tucks and sit spins?

Where have you been Johnny Weir Johnny Weir
when you showed us your fabulous closet?
Where have you been Johnny Weir Johnny Weir
when "He's gay" was the common sense posit?

When Johnny comes skating home skating home
he writes down how he did it his way.
When Johnny comes marching home marching home
he kicks up his heels and says "I'm gay."

Welcome home Johnny Weir Johnny Weir,
what comes next for you is unclear.
Welcome home Johnny Weir Johnny Weir,
don't be a coquettish stranger.




*     *     *     *

· en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johnny_Weir
· Be Good Johnny Weir, Sundance Channel
   sundancechannel.com/johnny-weir
· towleroad.com/2010/03/johnny-weir-deemed-too-gay-for-stars-on-ice-tour-invitation.html
· Johnny Weir interview, The Howard Stern Show
   youtube.com/watch?v=68ghq9iynxM
· Welcome To My World, by Johnny Weir
   search.barnesandnoble.com/Welcome-to-My-World/Johnny-Weir/e/9781451611373

  placed in Poets United Poetry Pantry #26



Thursday, January 20, 2011

Decades


Do the 1160s have a feel,
like the 1060s' Norman French?
Or the 1300s — that's 1300 to 1309 —
like the 1340s' Black Death stench?

The 1980s feel like Reagan
and Madonna's MTV.
The 1950s like Howdy Doody
and Them! scaring me.

The 0s were shortened,
only 9 years passed,
but they say Jesus was growing
up very fast.

Socrates' queries and Euripides' plays
showcased the the BC-410s,
while Clinton's pain-feeling 1990s
gave us Seinfeld and Friends.

The 2000s feel Lost
in more ways than one,
though all things technology
had quite a run.

1970s feel of wearing disco-polyester
while waiting in gas lines.
1960s — exploding Beatles
and marching peace signs.

Every decade seems destined
to its own look and feel.
How the 2010s feel remains
for 2020 hindsight to reveal.



*     *     *     *

placed in Poets United Think Tank #32: As Time Goes By


Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Decloisturing


Electronic monks, in walking and sitting
meditation before your glass tablets,
sunken in hooded hats,
tumbling into fountains, celibating:
Decloisture, throw off your habits,
get out like Maria von Trapp.


Sunday, January 16, 2011

Heidi


    


What to make of this zigzag world,
North Carolina-raised girl,
now living in Liepzig
noshing on figs?

No wonder you've crossed eyes
to all the bad news that belies
this world-wide affection
for your heart-melting imperfection.


*     *     *     *

photo by Sebastian Willnow/AP, from Cross-eyed opossum is huge on Facebook
placed in Poets United Pantry #25



Friday, January 14, 2011

Addressing an alligator


    


"Did I tell you about wearing you
 above my nipple on my powder blue

       Izod?

 That you were a couture's passion,
 that you were such a fashion

       icon?

 That you had the preppies' loyalties,
 but they never fed you royalties?"
I nod.


*     *     *     *

placed in Poets United Think Tank #31: Random Deviation
photo: Zoo - American Alligator by Wolf-Midnight-Dancer, from deviantART



Thursday, January 13, 2011

Poe's Principle


  Per Poe's exhort,
this poem's short.



*     *     *     *

"From [his] experience, Poe surmised that long poems are unable to sustain a proper mood or maintain a high-quality poetic form and are, therefore, inherently flawed."
Wikipedia: The Poetic Principle


Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Markup your poem!


Seeing an announcement of a new poetry e-publication brought to mind that it is interesting that some poets still do not make their collections available in versions with ebook readers in mind.

Looking at Poetry Foundation website, and at the Page Source for the poem "Howl" for example, you see the lines marked up like this:

<div style='text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em;'>with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls, </div>
<div style='text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em;'>incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between, </div>
<div style='text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em;'>Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind, </div>


— so that when you see this poem, whether on a iPad, NOOK, or even smaller screen iPod Touch, the line breaks are taken care of.

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,

Without the markup, the lines would wrap without indentation and present a confusing display.

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,


(I've seen some poetry ebooks on my NOOK where line breaks are not handled and it looks like the above. What were the publishers thinking?)

The poet might want to change the indentation, say changing the '1' in the above example to '3':

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,


Just an example of how poets who want to make sure their poems look like what they want on ebook readers need to know just a few bits of markup language. Ultimately, they are responsible for how a poem looks, not the publisher.


Sunday, January 9, 2011

Weekly columns





for columnists everywhere

Weekly columns grow
All in a row
Glibberish or gibberish
Tossed to-and-fro

Passers-by embrace
Or shun their base
Inscribed with words
Making their case

Topped with flair
And foul is fair
Just blue sky above
Supporting hot air

A pale pool before
Reflecting the war
Of lines wordsmithed
To settle a score



*     *     *     *

placed in Poets United Pantry #24
photo from Wikipedia Commons



Thursday, January 6, 2011

Teabagging the Constitution


Giving lip service,
the Teaps leap to mouth
We the People ...

reading the Constitution
like reading the Bible, selectively
ignoring the 'troubling' spots.

And that was the evening
and the morning—
the second day.


*     *     *     *

  1. On Day 2, House Republicans read the Constitution (a redacted version was read, and there was one arrest)
  2. Teaps: Tea Partiers; see Justice Scalia accepts Tea Party Caucus invite
  3. U.S. Constitution




Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Button-fly pages



photo @mysocialbuttons.com



The webanoid wears
button-fly pages,
masters of his domain,
inviting the voyeur
to unbutton his junk.


Sunday, January 2, 2011

10 Outrageous Predictions

for 2011

Cockroaches become scant
Religions become tolerant

Justin Beiber becomes bass
Kathy Griffin becomes grace

Anderson Cooper becomes out
Zac Efron becomes stout

Scissor Sisters become Country
AC becomes DC

Republicans become progressive
Poetry becomes lucrative