Monday, August 25, 2014

Museum list poem


List poem found on museum wall simultaneous to Daniel posting prompt for listpoem. From Asian Art Museum show "Gorgeous"

My Mountain List



Summit 
dragon flies 
raccoon with young’ un at drinking fountain

Juniper Trail 
breeze
no water campsite
drought ended spring
fly buzz louder than ears ringing
oak scent

Wind Rock Caves
graffiti
names gone by
dates passed up
parched couple
guy asks me
“Come to carve your name?”

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

the rains come

i will
come back
to myself

    iguana
    skylark
    ichthyosaur

after years
of grieving

    cloudbank
    green sap rising
    granite butte



i need a river or pond
to see myself
says the cloud
so finally

she opens

to make mirror



the rains come

Monday, August 18, 2014

IMUNURI Prompt: List Poem

Write a list poem.
Art by Lauren Ari

List or catalog poem are simply that: poems formatted as a list. The form is quite open-ended and could be a numbered sequence, an ordering of events, an arbitrary string of images, or a series of parallel or un-parallel entries.

Examples:

"Jubilate Agno, Fragment B, [For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry]" by Christopher Smart, 1722 - 1771
 
"How Do I Love Thee (Sonnet 43" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806 - 1861

"Howl" by Allen Ginsberg, 1926–1997

"Yes" by Denise Duhame b.1971

As well as "The Twelve Days of Christmas," "Dr. Seuss's ABC's," and the intro verse to "Blue Suede Shoes."

One for the money,
Two for the show.
Three to get ready,
then go, cat, go!



Keywords: your handle, poem, listpoem

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Random Time Travel - from object to slogans to titles




snapped shut oxygen deprived
snapped open/ flint struck flame tall
zippoed either way

close shave that crow stunt
stolen covers
left little boy open to bad dreams
at watch for jumpers 
his brain leaps to 
more graven falls
out drummed below

 film crew skeletons atop double decker bus
celluloid carnivores
crank cameras out of time
no better than chained bear walkers
tight roping

bicycle passenger locked in app
sidecar-ing 
wearing
high leather laced boots
red and yellow
stickers on
master locked
messenger bag
announce
“Leave the clothes off animals”!
“This aint the Summer of Love!”
big wheels
pedaling smelling salts
************************************

Future Poem Titles

zippoed either way
out drummed below
tight roping
pedaling smelling salts

Monday, August 4, 2014

IMUNURI Prompt: Time Travel in Photos

Time Machine: ON

Step inside. Your travels begin now. Look out the window at the various strange goings-on in years gone by.

When an image sparks words, jot them. Jot more. Arrange, add, edit and rework.

Write a poem in the next two weeks inspired by a photo in this stream, or find another old photos archive such as the Library of Congress's.

When you post your poem, poet the image or a link to it as well so other time travelers can see where you've been.

Keywords: Label your post with your handle, the word "poem," and the phrase "time travel."

Happy timetrails!

Thursday, July 31, 2014

bluebird canyon, laguna, july 31, 72014


no birds are not dinosaurs
anymore the same way you and i
have two lungs
each
gills given up the ghost
in this sunny valley mid morning
where hummingbirds
a little like flying reptiles
that sparkle come to the hibiscus
so outrageous even the wind
only ruffles skirts
it's a party in a steep walled canyon
where light seeps then colors
now raucous joined by rooster
crying baby truck and avian cacaphony
squee squee  hrrr hrrr huh hrrr
and didgeridoo of unnamed
but not nameless flying reptile
progeny. i used to wonder what our
children would do but now i know
the wind will come down this canyon
whistling in millenia milennia from now
when humans are stories, so changed
by the loping ramble of evolvosaurus
that our daughters' daughters' daughters
etc will be lithe on wing, a flicker
of flight, perhaps the hibiscus still
will offer their pink satellite fabrics
open
to our daughters' d d d d d etc.
who will be green
and flying
and someone else will wonder
are these pteradactyls?

Monday, July 28, 2014

A Visitor



welcome mat
woven or rubber
door may be open 
door may be closed
matters not
step through or up against
feet square 
key under 
“come on in”
“come to stay?”

Heart and Soul

So you can play, and play for hours,
linking moves as in a swing dance,
an improvisation that sounds
like a song you've heard more than once—
though culture has put that song down.

You risk disparaging glances
as you start to boom-de-ah-dah.
Say you haven't tickled them since
grad school back in Arizona—
your fingers find their old power,

madly snap appoggiaturas;
fancified melodic forays
ring the teeth of the rusty saw.
Boogie-woogie on yesterday's
abandon, bouncing every ounce

of self-aware grown up away.
A can of worms: "Oh, do you play?"

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

IMUNURI Prompt: Answer to Question

 
For this week's writing, start with an answer
and end with a question.

keywords: poem, your handle, question 

Thursday, July 10, 2014

The dying art of letter writing

Today, I recieved a letter in the mail from an old friend.
A New Mexican who loves the stark and barren romance
of the landscape that envelops her.
The look of her hand-written script was as pleasing and artfully disheveled
as I remember her to be.

My eyes joyfully followed the line of letters and bold, punctuating marks
in their fervent effort to describe.
I could tell that she relished each stroke of that drugstore ballpoint pen.
The pressure, release and glide of it's crown
translating her mood as sensitively as an artist's sable-haired brush.

I wondered whether she realized, or cared
that every tenth word or so was illegible.
Causing the eye to stop and tumble over them.
Words that looked like balls of tangled thread.
Others like hastily written musical notations.
Or ancient Japanese calligraphy by the "Wild Sisters of Zen."

I was surprised by the intensity of my gratitude
for the drop of water or tear or tea that bled the ink
and curled the corner of the page.

This simple hand-written note.
Like a relic, a keepsake, a remembrance.
A true oddity among the daily scroll
of digital salutations.

The sage-scented sheet extended out like an invitation to a handshake.
A tactile way to bridge a distance seperating two friends.
A way to touch.




Monday, July 7, 2014

IMUNURI Prompt: Post-It Poem

Okay, so writing a poem without writing it down is an unexpected challenge for many.

Let's try a nearer-fetched experiment with writerly media, namely:

Post-It Poems

Draft poems on post-it notes, or write them and transfer final versions to post-it.

Here at IMUNURI, post your post-it poetry as text or upload a scan or photo of your post-it poem.

Bonus points for posting the poem somewhere before taking the picture.

keywords: your monicker, poem, post-it

Monday, June 23, 2014

IMUNURI Prompt: Write Without Paper


In the next two weeks, try this writing technique:
instead of putting implement to paper to write, then revisiting what you've written to revise,
write an entire poem in your memory.

It will help to recite the poem to yourself as you write it, to commit lines to memory before you add new lines.

You might also write stanza by stanza if that's easier, completing each before jotting it down and moving on to the next.

What choices will you make to help you compose a poem in your memory before writing it on paper?

TAGS: your name, poem, memorize

Friday, June 20, 2014

Dead calm



Dead Calm

Parle de ses doigts a fusil
(speak of your trigger fingers)
billboards
shapes/sizes
shoes/color
        walks
haircuts/bangs

lengths gone
over the lines
longer thans
vanishing horizons
gulf streams
obsessions
ceaselessness
la langue qui s’enlarge
(the tongue that grows)
la faim sans vide
(the bottomless hunger)

a mime in a rowboat

dead calm

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Dolce accelerando


By the time I get to North Beach, my skin is sliding against my skin
It’s late spring and hot, and the only thing I need is gelato—
Kahlua with dark chocolate chunks and chocolate-covered almonds—
so cold—milk coffee caramel thick, licked in the shade so slow.
I scrape the bottom, and I get up to walk back downtown.

I decide to have a cookie, too. I am so
vanquished that later I also gulp a peach
and feel that falling compulsion I know
from bodysurfing at Sandy Beach.
In salt surge and sugar siphon,

I stand and stroke while each wave
eats me up, foraging,
back-bending creature,
pushing the verge,
pushed below

one large
urge.

Craig Damlo

Monday, June 9, 2014

IMUNURI Prompt: MoodTempo

Check out this list of musical
"mood markings with a tempo connotation."

You can scroll up or down for more inspiration
from musical terms and directions.
Choose a term from this page as your poem's title
or part of the title;
then write the poem.


Examples:
With Fire: Allegro con brio



Playfully: Scherzo leggiero

Stately: Maestoso

keywords: your monicker, poem, moodtempo

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Gathering Herd



Mint-breathed Creature saga continued

a pasture
to invite others to
enjoy & gather in
may lead to a mint-breathed creature
crossed with  a four legged labordite (hairless, thin skinned, large brained)
& then who will greet the world in their aftermath
ENTER
Le Bagondelle (only commonality four legged)


quick witted & drama driven
with a passion for red poppies
Mint-breathed creature’s love had no reserve &
Mate held back no touch (such luxurious long curly hair Baggie wore)
Ah what a spoiled childhood Le Bagondelle indulged...

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

The limeronnet

There once was a bottlenose whale
who had wings thrice as long as her tail.
She could break from the sea
quite effortlessly

and sail through the heavenly veil
while scouting the waves for sea kale.
Her home in the firmament
became semi-permanent—

she only splashed down to avail
herself of some calm in a gale.
But in the clear weather
she stretched out her leather

and flew where the air was so rarefied
(leaving dozens of pilots quite terrified).



by Ashley McFarland AKA copperarabian

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Imunuri Prompt: futurtopia - birdrels and squirds

ebirdseed's Pteradactyl Squirrel
What would it be like to be half one species, half another? In some futur-topian hybrid (hybird?) universe, either due to apocalypse or creative diversification, some poets and writers imagine a world of mixture. Squirrels and birds... wings and hooves (unicorn and pegasus, anyone)? Either through inventing a hybrid poetic form, or by writing a poem of a species hybrid, imagine the future ...
Feed the Birds T-shirt Design



tags: squird, poem, [poet's moniker];

Friday, May 23, 2014

Drought


Much too early
In the Spring of 2014
Native wild bulbs were blooming in full
Unwinding from their underground Winter spools 
On the hillsides above the creek.
Along sidewalk gardens
The Daffodils 
Planted only for the pleasure of the eye,
Were plump.
Their split yellow buds deepened in color.
Reminding me of Canaries bringing a warning 
Of dangers near at hand.
Late Fall, 2013
In dry, hot California,
Peoples minds turned to water.
We dreamed of rivers and creeks.
Those impartial carriers of sustenance
Or poisons introduced
By our ancient fantasy of dominion
And the injury of merely 
Standing aside as an onlooker 
Or a newsagent 
Who broadcasts reason
While well-mannered rhetoric
Masks destruction.
Mid Winter 2013, 
Brought the record drought we all feared.
Unprecedented since 1929.
Our dreams brought us images of
Women singing for rain.
Their bodies merging with 
Alders and Salmon in the shallow creek.

We knew that our lives were 
Completely dependent
On those northwest winds lifting off the ocean
Just forty miles away.
Eventually I saw them 
Pushing and forming the hint of a cloud
Reflected in a pool along a brook
Where a fallen tree had stilled the flow of water
Creating a mirror for the sky.

Late Winter, 2014
Real rains came on the cusp of our despair.
Gradually.
Constantly.
Adding weight and expanse to the sponge of soils.
Settling into underground streams that ran joyful
Like sleeping snakes awakened from long hibernation.
Set free to play their sinuous games once again.
Anchored in service to an inexact compass.
Elastic.
Adaptable.
Unforeseeable in it's shifting.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Δ

“Sailor’s delight, maybe,” she snides,
“but those clouds are menacing weird.”
We lose west a couple seconds,
and our internal clocks spin wild
as though we’ve driven since midnight

instead of since noon, and the sound
of breakers becomes Atlantic—
and we’ve gone back several decades.
“Like a storm’s coming in.” She checks
the rearview, the speedometer.

“Maybe it’s apocalyptic,”
said absently as infrared.
“Maybe those clouds,” she extends rock-
and-roll fingers, “are the heralds
of The STORM of ARMAGEDDON!”

We drive a while, pass a schoolyard.
“Probably just the regular kind.”

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Ether Undone



Ether Undone 

seeds in envelope
loose round, unlocked echo
stretched note, soft coat


Sunday, May 18, 2014

This Matter Exists, Like a Broken Window

I want to swim
in luminiferous
aether, backstroke
in lighter air
than real air,
float above
quantum vacuums
that fill empty
with perfumes
everyone yearns for,
because there's no
sensory wading
in aether single,
where gestures
remain uncertain.

Thursday, May 15, 2014

From the Crisper

You are fresh grassy
lush leaf & raw tender.
Look at this verdant
bud, burgeoning
& developing, such
flourishing foliage.
You are maturing
and pullulating
recent sprouts.
I call you supple,
from verduous beds --
you are half formed,
pliable, unsophisticated
& perfect for salad.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Pantone Poem

 Pantone Poem

shade only known in dream
without sewing thread seam
sifted sans flour
shifted sands hour
characters chronologically mixed
rainbow not fixed
step on stage in no order
script has no border
lose their place
only to be replaced
by best forgotten

Monday, May 12, 2014

IMUNURI Prompt: Pantone


271 Years Before Pantone, an Artist Mixed and Described Every Color Imaginable in an 800-Page Book


Choose a color to inform a poem.
As mood.
As subject.
As imagery.
As word or langauge.
But as you write avoid using the name of the color within the poem.
Can you avoid using the name of any color in the poem and still evoke color. As mood, subject, imagery, word, language?

LABELS: your name, "poem," pantone

Smells like Spirit

In an aboriginal
unified field theory, Sound,
the primal all-belly, churns
every vibration around
wind-blown halls of a conch shell.

Matters foment and rebound,
karma chasing chemicals
to holy transformations
making not just sound but smell,
wafts mixed in air and airborne

wavelengths of primeval salt—
ferric, uric, sulfuric—
animate material.
Gas breath in solid music,
prime reason in primal cause.

That’s why your nose, mute and quick
is your wisest oracle.

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Tenderness

despite the pure fluidity of all things
things still seem stuck frozen at times

at times like these when reflections surface
distortions  refractions  images broken up

broken up into many pieces then shorn
as if cohesive and malleable workable

workings as if reliable and functioning
stable we take hold perhaps unawares

unaware of the tenderness of the situation
the pure fluidity of all things and more



Friday, May 9, 2014

Appeal

Unruly wind, spin-kiss this blue soul wing of mine and waft
me above coulees of cataracts, heedless
of my malaise;
catapult my wary skin skyward, heave this heart
into the hail's fussilade
where I might tumble into
perilous light.






Uneasy


     Uneasy

I do not cross the street to get a closer look (to menace, intrude)
I am able to not write that scene to continue 
in this 
uneasy
knowing a Camus moment is possible
an alignment of geological pressures coinciding
one one thousand is enough to realize to shift the focus quickly (to not dwell, not obsess)
take the finger off the trigger the eye from the object change the subject (not subject)
accept distrust of the solidity of the earth we stand on
allow the possible breach, an opening unexpected
a trembling rumbling inevitable but not time predictable
step off the curb with a surety the next earthquake will be felt


Tuesday, May 6, 2014

May Morning

Mountain fog
forces its heavy
emptiness on fungi,
fondles its way up
forest pines and taps
its tendrils against
skies too innocent
to swallow such
steaminess.

Friday, May 2, 2014

Imunuri Prompt: Elemental - Aether

scribe an offering 
inspired by the element of aether, space, akasha

what hums in you, what moves your essence, what shimmers you, and where is the unseen permeating you? what, if alchemically aligned, would be activated by your subtle vibrations? how is the origin of creation densely interwoven in you? scribe with the unseen pen. write aether.

Tags: aether, epic-earth, poem, <poet's moniker>

*****
Epic-Earth on Imunuri: An ongoing series of earth-related prompts as part of an Imunuri experiment to dwell repeatedly on a theme and its riffs, and/or the possible poetry challenge, bit by bit, of producing an epic or body of poems...


Image source: NASA, eXtreme deep field of space (XDF), image and higher res image, Public Domain. Above is a youtube compendium video flying through the eXtreme deep field. "This is the eXtreme Deep Field, a composite shot of all the galaxies in a teensy view of space, taken by the Hubble Space Telescope's two primary cameras over the past decade. Look at all those galaxies!" (from Geekologie)

For more, see Aether including the idea that it was "subtler than light" (Fludd) and Akasha, the "substratum of sound" (The Nyaya and Vaisheshika schools of Hindu philosophy).