Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Broadway Kearney Trochee

Crystal Hot Sauce
Urban Curry
Bloody Mary

Happy Donut
Public Parking
Little Szechuan
            For Lease

Garden of Eden
North Beach Movie
Dancers Discount

"North Beach Film Shoot," by Matt Jones

Monday, September 15, 2014


Words open into libraries.
My cognition leaps easily.
How do fingertips apprehend
this instant fractal teleport?




Sit on the edge of your seat or stand between rooms in the doorway. Write a poem.

Or write something edgy.
A goes-between.

Or invent a form on edge.

In permaculture, the edge is where things mingle: new admixtures or amalgamations. Greater diversity brings greater resilience.

Prompt words: on edge, poem, moniker

"Yosemite On Edge" - Wikimedia Commons

holding the cup and sensing its future breaking, a time fractal of holding and love in three parts that is also infinity and also nothing/the initiating perturbation from the quantum plenum

0 (which is also a infinity and nothing, the pearl of possibility breaking open from the quantum plenum)
imagine this is in the middle and everything comes out from here the decentered/center. there is a call for an article about love but that just gives me a mental hiccup

a mental hiccup spiral ing out from there a mental hiccup starting again there is no love in all those words could there be, an academic article about love? there could be no love, could there, in things where i have to cite others to have a thought- what if instead each citation were a mycelial tendril? what if i were touching, grooming, photophilically tenderly mycelially like a mycorrhizal networkly reaching out and praising through who i was whoing? i feel quelled by the need to get a job, by how i might be inspected online and found too weird creative or wanting -- that is the danger with names, with wanting to be transparent but really being broken shards of broken cups that can't carry water anymore

i can sense the future breaking of this ceramic (temporary wholeness) in my hand, in this way i am also touching the big bang and also nuclear fission/fusion i always get confused which one, wait should i look that up on wikipedia or keep typing? if this is the igniting wick of a word explosion, i should continue making smoke, burning up my body in the transmutation to prayers. somehow it all blows to nothing, to cosmic grit, to the the dark, immersive, generous 97% dark energy of all creation, the gentle, sweet, generative depths from which all arises and returns - but wait, i can't s/end this in a tidy way, the great making and the great unmaking are already simultaneously arising, erasing each other, just as the leaves here are curling and coiling in on themselves, sucking back their chloroplasts chlorophyll, that's what autumn really is: not green. what's left over when the life coils back into the mother trunk; this is not really fractal enough but me thinking that makes it more so, where will we end // end/begin // begin? just as the initial perturbation in the complex multiverse flex and fold-sing-being. let me be a bee traveling in space-time, on the currents of galactic wind and pollinate constellations to form a kind of dark energy honey in the hives of all creation, just so, at the zero point, returning to the end to rill out again, a flower flexi-folding, in bursts of unspeakable color before words and after, just so, just so, just so BURST

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Fractal self

Scent of Orange

call to prayer fade out
on shores south of here
old ring in my ear left behind…

seated back on chair in Crete
silent cup before me
feet still…in sandals
lantern now to light
speech less
color gone grays

orange blossom scent carried here
 (though no breeze)
 in orange blossom scent carried here
 (though no breeze)
held in air
nostrils sway for more

tongue tastes 
last sun/set’s orange
light gone to fragrance
orange blossom scent carried here…

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Tai-chi Haiku

Palm on puma head
Hold self in mirror image
Step out into world

Monday, September 1, 2014

IMUNURI Prompt: The infinite coastline

Fractal edges are infinitely expanding, minutely detailed: watch this video on the infinite coastline.


Write a fractal poem. Delve in and find the expanding poem within one fragment of a poem. Sense or form the iterating shape echoing across scales.

tags: poet's moniker, poem, infinite-coastline

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

dragon flies 
raccoon with young’ un at drinking fountain

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

Wind Rock Caves
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


after years
of grieving

    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.


"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
high leather laced boots
red and yellow
stickers on
master locked
messenger bag
“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
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
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