Monday, September 29, 2014

IMUNURI Prompt: Hopalong

Xpogo RioCC BY-SA 3.0  Wikimedia Commons
Pogo sticks
Rockets to the moon

Jump on one foot for one whole minute (time it) then write a poem (about that or about anything) - bonus for noticing - how does it change the pace and rhythm of your writing?

Extra credit: pretend you are in a slow motion movie for part of the time, gravity permitting. How does that change it?

Tags: hopalong, poet name, poem

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Broken Eggs

cottage built of old pallets
fruit case ads bleed thru yellowed kitchen ceiling
must/dust cat fur on room rug,
walls bare, except 
Egyptian wall hanging spattered with egg yolk
 Horus weighs a (Red) heart against a feather (Blue )
burn marks on wall 
reflect indoor bottle rocket launches
induced haunts
upstairs one hot room before, 
only furniture a metal four-post bed
four more stairs lead up to a (duck!) short opening to a small room with a child size mattress
bay breeze drafts through windowless space
chills the day after
no window left unbroken

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