Saturday, April 30, 2011

April 30th - Conks

Four of Diamonds - Conks
7 - Craigslist Missed Connection

A nod to "Invitation to the Blues".
-

http://memphis.craigslist.org/mis/2355857382.html



Rita Hayworth at the Register - m4w - 37


Date: 2011-04-30, 10:54PM CDT
Reply to:
[Errors when replying to ads?]

You work at a certain restaurant
Most weeknights and on Sundays
I admire the way you pour coffee
From my table by the window
I've been in every night this week
And it's not for the bacon
You're a moving violation -
From your conk down to your shoes

Linger at my table next time
Or come bring your dodge to the filling station
Tell me how I like my eggs

  • it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 2355857382




More stuff coming here on Monday...
In the meantime, check out April 30th's poem from last year.

Friday, April 29, 2011

April 29th - Before Pictures

Four of Clubs - Before Pictures
7 - Craigslist Missed Connection


http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/mis/2353696295.html



Beauty of the Before Photo - w4w - 35 (Midtown East)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Date: 2011-04-29, 5:50PM EDT

Reply to:

Reply To This Post

[Errors when replying to ads?]

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Is it crazy to fall in love with a photo?
a little maybe but
how could I not
be moved by
your bemused lips
your lotus shoulders
how you cradle your belly
as if it were in swaddling clothes


You are the height of loveliness
in a captured memory
in green bra and leopard print panties
you shouldn't let any man
or any woman say otherwise


This woman certainly won't:
she'll be wearing a golden cicada brooch
on Wednesdays and Sundays
at front desk of the 77th street Jenny Craig -
come and cancel your membership and
she'll take you out for Lobster





•it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests




PostingID: 2353696295





--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Check for a new poem here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 29th's poem from last year.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

April 28th - Potential Energy

Two of Diamonds - Potential Energy
13 - Dialogue


Tension

Now pull it back
I know it's hard just
     "It's hard Dad"
I know
Just pull
Good and
Steady
Keep your eye on
Steady
Keep
Straighten your shoulder for Chris-
Okay
Just keep your eye on the blue
  
    "What makes the arrow fly Dad?"
You don't need to know that
You just need to know
Where to put your feet




Check for a new poem here later today...
In the meantime, check out April 28th's poem from last year.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

April 27th - The Scott Kazmir Trade

Seven of Hearts - The Scott Kazmir Trade
10 - Free Verse

June In Sunset Park


Two faded, fitted caps worn inside
Two Brooklyn Summers sipped slowly
The men say little to each other
Accustomed to years of calm fellowship
Or perhaps not to jinx the Mets' 2-1 lead
In the bottom of the sixth

The picture cuts to the Angel's dugout and
Both balding brothers bristle
Still raw about the Kazmir deal


Check for a new poem here later today...
In the meantime, check out April 27th's poem from last year.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

April 26th - Sudden Enlightenment

Ace of Spades - Sudden Enlightenment
4 - Ruba'i


Fill My Cup To Overflow

My body like an empty bowl
I tug upon your camisole
And tongue across your salty sweet
Then pause for you to seize control

With legs enwreathed and twisted feet
Gateless in the rising heat
Giving way to muffled cries
We savor and suffer beat by beat

No Zazen brings me to these highs
Zealously we claim our prize
You strike at me for keenness sake
I see colors when I close my eyes

And the whole living univerese shakes
A thunderclap, a tree branch breaks
While here a subtle shift of weight
Prepares me finally to wake

With palms upon your tender pate
Two entities at last conflate
Take in a single inward breath
And quaking die a tiny death
Omnipresent yelling "God is Great!"


Check for a new poem here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 26th's poem from last year.

Monday, April 25, 2011

April 25th - My Girlfriend's Toothbrush

Jack of Diamonds - My Girlfriend's Toothbrush
12 - Limerick

Whoa. No Kids Allowed into this poem.


My Girlfriend's Toothbrush

My girl has an electric toothbrush
In discussing it she is known to gush
When her roommates are gone
We switch it to "on"
And do things that would make a whore blush


Check for a new poem here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 25th's poem from last year.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

April 24th - Apocalyptic Dreams

Ace of Clubs - Apocalyptic Dreams
3 - Shakespearean Sonnet




Prescience/Collapse

One summer night I fell into a dream:
My friends and I meander through the mall
And suddenly a man lets out a scream
As pieces of the ceiling start to fall
The burden-bearing cable swiftly snaps,
Foundations shake as crossbeams bend and roar
The total structure threatens to collapse
We link our arms and make it to the door
Outside the air is black as buildings burn
Just noise: a siren's blare, a woman's cry
Amid cacophony one can discern
The crunch of bodies falling from the sky
      And yes it was a dream, but when I woke
      My eyes beheld a skyline filled with smoke


Check for a new poem here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 24th's poem from last year.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

April 23rd - Two Brains, One Skull

Six 0f Diamonds - Two Brains, One Skull
9 - Hip-Hopera


Well, dear readers, I'm going to have to invoke a get-out-of-jail-free card  on this one - or power of attorney or something.  I hate to cop-out tonight, especially since I dropped the ball on the last hip-hopera, but frankly didn't have the time today. It was worth it, however: thanks to R. and R. and K. and UNIS for a great afternoon/evening/night.


I basically got as far as I did last time.


Songs used:
David Bowie - No Control
Thom Yorke - Black Swan
Thom Yorke - The Drunkk Machine
Micheal Jackson - Remember the Time (that animated sequence at the beginning looked so great in 1992)


(All times listed refer to clips above)


The driving force of the song is the intro to "No Control" layered over the first 0:04 of "Black Swan." Since the percussion on both is very similar, I hope to create a disconcerting echo effect. The verses would consist of "No Control" 0:00 - 0:19 looped, while the choruses would be 0:20 - 0:38 looped. There would be a bridge - and drastic change in tone - that fades in at around "Drunkk Machine" 1:00 (after a fadeout of "No Contol," over "Black Swan" at first) in time to hear "Talking in tongues" and out around "Drunkk Machine" 1:20. This will also serve as the song's outro.


The additional vocal samples would be:
"All deranged. No control."
"No Control." (2:22)
and of course, "Do you remember?"


"Black Swan," "Remember the Time," "Permafrost," and others are meant to thread through the entirety of this hip-hopera.


This movement would be a schizophrenic number about how fame breeds paranoia and regret, the key line being "I'm of two minds." It would ideally be performed by someone who sounds a lot like RZA.




Check for a new poem here tomorrow, I swear...
In the meantime, check out April 23rd's poem from last year.

Friday, April 22, 2011

April 22nd - Victories (small)

Ace of Hearts - Victories (small)
11 - Petrarchan Sonnet



Another Poem About Kissing an Ear

Impossible too over-reassert
The lustrousness of her effulgent ear
And laid inticing on its pale fronteir
A marked scar from some mysterious hurt
I keep this ear in mind each time we flirt
And though I try to act most cavalier
Because of my compulsion I do fear,
We've crafted a relationship inert

Months travel by but I never forget
My longing for what lays beside her head
Through providence one evening, tete-a-tete
We find ourselves together on my bed
   Approaching breathlessly with open lip
   I finally carress its petal tip



Poem coming here later today...
In the meantime, check out April 22nd's poem from last year.

Shout Out #2

Jon Berger is the man who first exposed me to the idea of National Poetry Month - in fact he is who first exposed me to poetry I had any interest in (Jon is often exposing himself). If you ever have a chance to see him perform live dont pass it up; he is one of the most talented and certainly the most prolific poet I know.

Check out his stuff
His NPM blog
Buy his poems (on cd)
Listen to his band

Thursday, April 21, 2011

April 21st - El Trains

Seven of Clubs - El Trains
11 - Petrarchan Sonnet


High Line Park

Ascending grated stairs the rails appear
And tracks enwrapped by verdant undergrowth
Her hand in mine and mine in hers but both
Beset by joylessness evoked from clear
Memories sprouting forth, recalling years
And vanished faces we once knew by rote
As tracks and rails displace their grassy coats
And phantom trains cause rumbling in our ears

Then back, encouraged by her pleasant face
Surprised to find us in this lofty place
Together sitting with our forearms crossed
Indiff'rent to the present's lovely truth
For even celebration of our youth
Cannot compete with everything we've lost


Poem coming here later today...
In the meantime, check out April 21st's poem from last year.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

April 20th - Man vs. Food

Jack of Spades - Man vs. Food
15 - Acrostic


Man vs. Food

Covers thrown off
Evan sweats
Limbs at odd angles
Longings suppressed but
Unable to resist he

Lumbers from the bed
Into the kitchen and
Tearing open the Entenmann's box he
Eats

Another poem coming here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 20th's poem from last year.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

April 19th - Sadaharu Oh

King of Clubs - Sadaharu Oh
2 - Haiku


Tamo/Ume/Oh

Sadaharu swings:
Plum blossoms open by degrees:
The crack of white ash


Another poem coming here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 19th's poem from last year.

Monday, April 18, 2011

April 18th - Character Sketch of a Starbucks Regular

Jack of Clubs - Character Sketch of a Starbucks Regular
14 - Rondeau


Delivery


Within his truck in soft repose
Reclining, Nelson starts to doze
And dreams from deep inside his head
Deliverance from the things he said
Awakes to unfamiliar woes

In wanting to console these throes
He visits one of many hos
And throwing her upon the bed
He delivers

Once back in Brookline's muted glows
The giant man neglects his loads
Attending to the moon instead
Does Nelson, mighty arms outspread
         After the doors at Starbucks close
         He delivers



Another poem coming here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 18th's poem from last year.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

April 17th - Progress

Two of Clubs - Progress
19 - Bruce Springsteen Song


Didn't quite get inspiration from The Boss on this one, but enjoy in it in its unfinished form. For the final, expect horn fills, Max Weinberg drum-kit heroics, and overt repetition of the word "night."




Back on I-195 (Hit The Road)



Magic in the air the first night we met
On the boardwalk at the shore
You were no stranger to summers there
But my family was too poor
Didn't stop me when I turned seventeen
I had one thing on my mind
Jumped in Tommy's beat-up Pontiac
And left the plant behind
Oohhh
I had no idea Maggie I'd find you that night
Cruising in Asbury Park
But on the beach all it took was one look
And we were kissing in the dark
Lying on the sweating sand together
Eyes to the stars
We broke into an abandoned beach house
Then into Tommy G's car
Driving back to your house in Hewlitt
In the early morning dew
I kissed you on your front porch, Maggie
Saying "I'll come back for you"
Oohhh

I said
Don't worry bout our parents
We won't walk the path that they trode
We'll shine much brighter
And if we get bored
Baby we can hit the road

At the factory I spent the winter,
Body burning for you
A brutal day's work
But the only way I knew
(She has an argument with her parents and leaves home. Gives up her five-town affluence to come to poor suburb of Trenton to live with him)
Saying "I only wanna be with you"
Oohhh

I said
The burden's sure heavy but
I'll shoulder it, no matter the load
We'll burn on forever
And if it strikes us
Baby we can hit the road

(They get married in a rush, and despite being poor, they live a pretty charmed life. Protagonist is even singled out by his boss for promotion)
"I got big plans for you kiddo
Boy your too smart for the floor"
(Protagonist almost puches boss, cause his father worked on the floor for thirty years, but takes promotion to make more money for his family. Can't believe life turned out this way, but will do anything to keep Maggie from working.)
Saying "I'll provide for you"
Oohh

I said
Success is a puzzle but
Someday we'll crack the code
We'll keep on burning baby
And if it comes to it
Baby we can hit the road

(Bridge: Despite profits, factory closes and moves to Mexico. Tommy G possibly loses a hand in the machinery. Basically everything goes to shit.)

She said
Baby you could try your luck at the nuclear plant
I'm willing to share the load
I'll clean houses, be a waitress
Whatever it takes
To stay off the cruel road



-


Check out the Springsteen song from last year


Some great Springsteen homages:
Dylan/Petty
Stiller
Muppets


Another poem coming here later today...
In the meantime, check out April 17th's poem from last year.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

April 16th - The Dead Sea

Seven of Diamonds - The Dead Sea
7 - Craigslist Missed Connection

http://boston.craigslist.org/gbs/mis/2329799617.html



Body Shop Beauty - m4w - 46 (Cambridgeside Galleria)


Date: 2011-04-16, 10:03PM EDT


We encountered each other at the body shop this afternoon
You rubbed cream on my hands and I made you laugh
My wife was purchasing mud from the Dead Sea
I told you I was from Israel
And how real Dead Sea mud feels on your body
If she was not there I would have asked you to dinner


I want you to reply to me
I am willing to be discrete if you are...

  • Location: Cambridgeside Galleria
  • it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 2329799617



Another poem coming here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 16th 's poem from last year.


Friday, April 15, 2011

April 15th - Invisible People

Eight of Hearts - Invisible People
20 - Any Form of My Choosing

And I choose - Tweet Length
A) Because I like the form
B) Because it has been a long week


Japanese Waitress

She serves Shochu
To a of growling group of grandees
Gracefully

She's all bones and skin yet
She strives to be
Invisible


Another poem coming here later today...
In the meantime, check out April 15th's poem from last year.

Craigslist Missed Connection Updates

So I've received some responses to April 10th's missed connection:

Taussig Hagar writes, "looking for fun and to hang outke."

While Glanzman Vandela observes, "hung huge."


The internet is a wondrous thing.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

April 14th - Thomas Kinkade

Five Of Diamonds - Thomas Kinkade
16 - Tweet Length

Read up on this winner

 
Sharing The Light

Inspired, rapturous
(They contain larger moral dimension)
: my masterworks

If you buy $300 or more
You get a free gift
Through Easter
On QVC

Check for a new poem here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 14th's poem from last year.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

April 13th - Whaling Ships

Nine Of Spades - Whaling Ships
18 - Beat Poem




32:2

After it has quited
One can hear the sails and
Flags winded
And hungry gulls
But not grief

As the butchers raise their gaffs
And the boatswain watches with empty eyes
And the able seamen continue their story
And the thirteen-year-old deckhand fingers his baleen necklace
As the butchers flense
And the visiting politician shivers under slack smile
And his visiting wife shakes in her corset
And the captain is not even looking
As the butchers flense
And the beast, breathless, quakes
And the grinning pupils of the chaplain laugh a prayer from Ezekiel
And a red wave washes over all the people
- their boots
As a butcher wipes his hands on the pages of a weekly newspaper

Somewhere back on America
A man reads the same newspaper
Pince-nez
Squinting in the fading sunlight
And moves to light his lamp



Check for a new poem here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 13th's poem from last year.

April 12th - Dead Dogs (Redux)

Nine of Clubs - Dead Dogs
9 - Hip-Hopera (excerpt)

First, the four main reasons this didn't work:
- Ambition: I created a poetic structure that was way too massive to complete in one night - as you'll see.
- Not being prepared: I planned for everything I write in this Hip-Hopera category to be part of a whole. Therefore this entry was to serve as an introduction, an overture to an ongoing project. Whenever I rolled a '9', I planned to write another song that is part of a larger framework, each entry developing some of the previously introduced themes (musically and otherwise). My mistake lay in not making any decisions on the nature of this framework beforehand.
- Time management: I did want this piece, and all other parts of this Hip-Hopera to be set to music - in fact I found it a necessity - but so much of my energy yesterday was spent conceiving an instrumental backbone that I was at a loss when it came time to fill in the lyrics. I took about 45 minutes analyzing the meter of "Justify My Thug," which other than an increased level of respect for H.O.V.A., didn't do too much for me.
- Trying too hard: I attempted to incorporate too much heavy shit. It's a m-f-ing Hip Hopera!

What I was able to come up with:

I wanted a relatively simple bassline to act as foundation - something a little dirty and impossible to ignore. I love "Justify My Thug," and it fit my criteria pretty well, so I copped that. I wanted to layer something over it that was stark and a little creepy, something that sounds like the feeling you would get stumbling upon the corpse of an animal. "Permafrost" was an easy choice, especially thanks to the extended instrumental intro. Once I found some samples to fill in the transitions, I had an animate skeleton on my hands.

The songs I ended up sampling:

Jay-Z - Justify My Thug (somewhat not safe for work)
Magazine - Permafrost (definitely not safe for work)
System of a Down - P.L.U.C.K. (probably not safe if you work in a library or around small children)
Thom Yorke - Black Swan (pretty much, you should be wearing headphones)
Michael Jackson - Remember the Time (expect when listening to this one - PUMP IT IN YOUR CUBE)

The meter worked out quite well:

each verse = 16 measures (verse 3 – 24 measures)
each chorus = 8 measures
"Justify My Thug" beat is in 4/4 time, 4 measures, so it fit twice into each "Permafrost" sample

I envisioned the song as follows:
Intro: "P.L.U.C..K." 0:01 – 0:11 x4, fade in "Justify" beat overlayed with "Permafrost" 0:01 -0:23
Verse 1 : "Permafrost" 0:01 -0:23 x2
Transition: Do you remember?... ("Remember" – 1:12 -1:13)
Chorus: "Permafrost" 0:24 -0:48
Transition: "Black Swan" 0:01 -0:05/Watch it all fall down...("P.L.U.C.K."– 1:14 -1:16)
Verse 1 : "Permafrost" 0:01 -0:23 x2
Transition: Do you remember?... ("Remember" – 1:12 -1:13)
Chorus: "Permafrost" 0:24 -0:48
Transition: "Black Swan" 0:01 -0:05/Watch it all fall down...("P.L.U.C.K."– 1:14 -1:16)
Verse 3: "Permafrost" 0:01 -0:23 x2, "Permafrost" 3:23 -3:46
Last Line: Man, this is fucked up
"Justify" beat fades out
Outro: "Permafrost" 3:47 -4:14 – to fade out, Do you remember?...("Remember" 2:25 -2:26) at about "Permasfrost" 3:50

So, basically, I wrote myself into a song template that clocked in at over four minutes and translates to 72 lines of verse.

As for content, I wanted it to be sweeping and open ended enough to support any future additions. Also, I wanted to reference all of the songs sampled: from the Buchnerian sexual violence of “Permafrost” to the fun nostalgia of “Remember the Time.” Maybe thread in a statement about Armenian genocide...

Oh, and the whole thing had to be about dead dogs.

So it’s no surprise I only ended up with one decent line:

“I’ll take you out of orbit like the first dog in space.”

With hope I'll learn from my mistakes for next time. I should probably also take some pointers from the master.

Failure!

So I let my ambition get the better of me: I created a beast that was way too complex to finish in one night. We'll count this poem as a failure, and I'm okay with that; dinner and philosophizing was much more important. Tomorrow morning I'll post some insight into the process I took and what went wrong. In the meantime, I leave you with the following, which most definitely should be the title of a rap album:







A new poem here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 12th's poem from last year.

Monday, April 11, 2011

April 11th - "Ravishing" Rick Rude

Queen of Diamonds - "Ravishing" Rick Rude
1 - Prose

A great obit for the man.


The Rumble

This was it. He was chosen to go first for a reason. Cymbals crash. The opening bars and he's off at a confident strut down the aisle, taking his time. With sequined robe, coiffed hair, and manicured mustache, he steps into the lights and the crowd roars. Two minutes. He's going on first for a reason.

Through the ropes and he's in the ring. Start the timer. Off with his robe and the crowd howls once more. "Ravishing" Rick Rude stands a body of marble, baby oil dripping and glistening under the lights. Rude throws the robe to the ring and steps forward to flex and kiss at the jeering crowd. His own face is emblazoned on his tights, mustache resting on pubis. Boos - and Rick reacts by wiping the sweat from his brow and flinging it to the audience.

Rude turns his back on them. Placing his hands on his buttocks, he saunters casually over to the other corner of the ring. There he sees a woman sitting quietly in the third row, aisle seat, and winks at her suggestively. She's a plant whom he'll kiss later, after he's been knocked out by Mr. Perfect. Gotta set the stage now. One minute gone by. It's time.

Bobby Heenan hands him the microphone. "Cut the music! You all came out here tonight to see the Royal Rumble, am I right?" Cheers. He repeats himself. "You all got your asses into your cars and drove to this run-down arena tonight so you could see the Royal Rumble. Am I right?" The din builds. "But I don't think any of you sweaty pigs" - boos - "you flabby, out of shape, inner-city losers expected to be put to shame this early. What I'd like you to do" - the boos rise- "Sit down and shut up! What I'd like you losers to do is take a good look at what a real sexy man looks like."

With that Rude ascends to the top turnbuckles, flexing as the crowd noise amplifies and squeezing them nearly to the brink, he eases back down to canvas. "Now I'm gonna step back for a second here," Rude pauses for effect, "and give the ladies a good look at the sexiest man alive. Hit the music!"

Rude ditches the mic. Then, his back to the south entrance, "Ravishing" Rick Rude places hands behind his head and rolls his hips. With each gyration, the rumble of the crowd grows, and thrusting, Rude brings the booing to a crescendo. His mustache shifts slightly: a smile as he preps for an imminent blow to the shoulder.

Two minutes. Texas Tornado comes barreling down the aisle, connecting with hand after outstretched hand. All the while, Yokozuna waiting in the wings.




Another poem - maybe a proper one this time -  coming here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 11th's poem from last year.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

April 10th - A Random TED Talk

Six Of Spades - A Random TED Talk
7 -  Craigslist Missed Connection


TED Talk

Missed Connection

-



Chemistry - m4w - 26 (Porter/Central)


Date: 2011-04-11, 3:06AM EDT
Reply to: your anonymous craigslist address will appear here

On Saturday
Our group of friends were buttressing at Cafe Mami
We recognized each other from our Thermo class and said hi
"The only good Japanese-style curry in Boston" you said
Later we were both at Miracle of Science
(Miraculous?)

You were drinking an Arrogant Bastard
I teased you about it
How did we get on the topic of climate change?
I called you Rachel Pike look-a-like

I was going to buy you a drink
But your friends were leaving
I was an idiot and didn't say anything then

So...

You wanna grab a beer
Maybe some shrimp skewers ;)
Tuesday after class

- j


  • Location: Porter/Central
  • it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests



PostingID: 2317809724


Another Poem coming here tomorrow er, (later today)
In the meantime, check out April 10th's poem from last year.

Saturday, April 09, 2011

April 9th - Love Hotel Hill (Shibuya)

Queen of Clubs - Love Hotel Hill (Shibuya)
15 - Acrostic


Love Hotel Hill

"Gaijin Not Allowed"
Every place has this sign it seems
Translated in English and German from Japanese
Yet I'm Here

On the corner, a trembling line of men will grow
Until the club opens at noon
"Really?" I ask - but then, I'm here

Doogenzaka snakes and spreads
Into a Shinto Shrine; through the torii,
Cleanse at the choozuya, and I
Kneel at the feet of some stone dog, then back down again to
Winding streets, past sour-faced madams

Exiting, I follow a businessman
Toward Shibuya 109

-

In an attempt to be less obtuse:

Doogenzaka
Gaijin
Torii
Choozuya
Shibuya 109

Another poem coming here tomorrow (with luck)...
In the meantime, check out April 9th's poem from last year.

Friday, April 08, 2011

April 8th - Phantom Limbs

Two of Spades - Phantom Limbs
8 - Free Verse

Delayed due to computer issues. Thanks for the bailout Scarlett!:


Hands


Crack of knuckles
and to work:
cloth cords coiled round forefingers, blood
rushing to the tips
I pull - almost pain - and
release, relief

Palms now on smooth leather
cool, crawling up again
nails catch on stitching
wrists rest on icy grommets

Then:
strings secured in fingers' grips
I move my hands
proper pressure
precise, delicate like
I'm conducting to the carpet:
A perfect knot

On to boot number two

I seize it but
slick, slippery, it
slides from me -
once more: struggling
drops and wiggles across the floor
I grab again, angry
and it rears up
growing in my grip
spitting black from its tongue
laces whipping at my face
and threading through my fingers
wrapping my wrists
around my arms
real pain now
skin in binary colors: white or purple
I open to scream and get a mouthful of polish
coughing black
I cry out
I -

Awake in the blue light of my room

I stretch my fingers

The sheets don't move

I try to sleep again


Another poem coming here later today (I hope)...
In the meantime, check out April 8th's poem from last year.

Thursday, April 07, 2011

April 7th - WILD CARD

Orange Joker - WILD CARD

WILD CARD #1 - Throwback: Any unused topic from last year

Which will be: Riding a Ferris Wheel
4 - Ruba'i





Cables and Girders

High above the carnie's stands
We sit together holding hands
Take in Brooklyn's lofty views
Think vaguely of our altered plans

And how we rarely get to choose
Who it is we mutually use
As we ascend around once more
Greeted by the ocean's hues

And bathers lying on it's shore
Which, truthfully, are all ignored
I swiftly kiss you on the lips
We slow to stop as girders roar

You kiss me back, a tongue is slipped
Both passionate and grabbing hips
The axle spins, the cables bend
The wheel revolves, our basket dips

And swings as we start to descend
We bring our fondling to an end
Retreat to edges of the seat
Concerned our capsule will upend

Staring at eachother's feet
We camouflage our shared conceit
And wait for one of us to speak
Preoccupied with common heat

Our opened door breaks the mystique
Getting out, my knees are weak
I stretch my toes in Coney sands
We once again are holding hands
"After this let's see the freaks."




Another poem coming here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 7th's poem from last year (also a WILD CARD, coincidentally).

Wednesday, April 06, 2011

April 6th - Suicide

King of Hearts - Suicide
14 - Rondeau



Capote on 49th Street

Young Truman jettisoned his cares
Threw parties (legend'ry affairs)
Resplendent boys peopled his bed
His books were univers'ly read
But he grew bored of this somewhere


In taking those who bought his shares
And casting them in "Answered Prayers"
Press, and friends, and even Lee said,
"It's suicide."


He quits the bar to startled glares
And leaving, tumbles down the stairs
On finding him with bloodied head
The waiters bring him home to bed
His fed-up bartender declares,
"It's suicide"




Another poem coming here tomorrow...

In the meantime, check out April 6th's poem from last year.

Tuesday, April 05, 2011

Shout Out #1

Jeremy Tyarks has incorporated National Poetry Month into the world of his forthcoming collection/ongoing poetry blog, Edward Brook. Tyarks is no stranger to writing marathons, having spent a full year producing a new piece everyday. He takes great pleasure in reclaiming lost words and his work is sensual and hilarious. Expect some brilliant stuff from Jeremy in April and beyond.

Like what you see? Buy his first book!

April 5th - Magazine Street

Jack of Hearts - Magazine Street
20 - Any form of my choosing

And I choose Free Verse:


Le Bon Temps Roule (sic)

The air is different in this place
lowland electric
foreign light
and "Dixie Voodoo"
in neon

I breathe Mississippi salt
and sand and sweat
magnolias
Virginia tobacco
dusk and Otis Redding
wafting from some idling taxi
the best
God Damned
radio stations, I swear

Down here
wasps fly around my legs
sucking sugar from dried beer
on splintered bench, which
in reality is a parking stop
"Most of the Time"

How good you look in
your dress when
you return, plastic cups in
your hands: jacks and cokes
to go



Another poem coming here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 5th's poem from last year.

Monday, April 04, 2011

April 4th - Fat Elvis

King of Diamonds - Fat Elvis
1 - Prose


For all his ridiculousness, to give a performance like this, as overweight and full of Demerol as he was, man truly was a king. And yes, sometimes a king needs a sweat rag and two 64oz cups of coke.



Return of The King (excerpt)

The Ghost of Elvis Presley haunted my house the summer I was thirteen. I was terrified of him, sure, but if it wasn't for this ghost, if it wasn't for Elvis, I may have never been able to put a face to the emptiness I have felt for as long as I can remember.

My mother and I moved to Memphis in the spring and settled in a colonial-style house on the east side of the city. The neighborhood was bought out in the early fifties and given a complete overhaul: old rooming houses were knocked down and replaced with split-level homes with tiny yards. Our house was the only colonial on the block and I still haven't been able to figure out why. For all it's cobwebs and peeling wallpaper, it had only been built in the sixties; it was less than thirty years old. I never saw the insides of any other houses in our neighborhood, for we kept to ourselves when we lived in Memphis. My mother liked to remind me that we were there temporarily, and that was that.

I was taken by the house immediately: the large standing bathtub with the bronze feet in the upstairs bathroom, the way the stairs creaked as I jumped my way up them to my room. There were plenty of dark places to find in that house. I led solo expeditions down to the basement that smelled like a turtle's cage - once I found a salamander down there, which fled like a wind-up toy when I shone my flashlight on it - and up to the attic where I could see my bedroom through the floorboards.

My favorite thing about the house was the crawlspaces. There was one hidden in each room - behind the dining room table or an unhung painting - and my greatest discovery came when I realized they all connected to a central chamber. This half-room spanned all three stories of the house and each level was accessible by a knotted rope that had been installed by a former tenant. On each level there was just enough floor space for me to lie down, and there was a hint of sunlight in there from some unknown source. The wooden walls of this chamber were filled with insulation that looked like cotton candy. I loved it there.

I became so comfortable with the interlocking network of crawlspaces, that I began using them to travel through the house. My mother, knowing I was in my room, would call me from the kitchen, "Peter!" and I would bound through my crawlspace, slide down the rope, and within moments be standing behind her. She would jump every time and I never let her in on the secret of how I could do it.

Tennessee summers are as hot as anything and after school ended, I spent my idle days in our house. I would wake up around 10:30, after my mother had gone to work. First things first: change into a pair of underwear and my White Sox cap, grab my trumpet, and prepare a peanut butter and banana sandwich. From there I would spend the rest of my afternoon in my inner chamber - "The Spine Of The House" as I liked to call it - where it was cool and dark. I would lie down on the floor in the middle of The Spine with my feet up in the air, stretching my toes in the cottony insulation, playing my trumpet, nibbling on my breakfast between songs. I played "Yesterday" and "Everything Happens to Me", and the horn part for "Got My Mind Set On You," but my favorite song to play was "Hound Dog." Whenever I played it seemed like just by using my lips I could make the whole house vibrate. It was here that I first encountered the Ghost of Elvis.

One afternoon I dozed off with the cool of my trumpet on my chest and was awoken by the sounds of voices coming from somewhere in the house: a man' voice and a woman's voice, too muffled for me to make out what they were saying. The woman's voice sounded almost like my mother's, but when she laughed, I wasn't so sure. I tried climbing the rope to see if I could hear better on different levels, but the voices were just as hard to understand everywhere. Suddenly they were quiet, and then Elvis started singing. He was so loud and sounded differently than I was used to him sounding. I went back to my trumpet, grabbed it and lay perfectly still, terrified. He sang "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You" and it sounded like it was coming from everywhere. I closed my eyes and tried to disappear. Then came "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" followed by "Love Me Tender." I thought I heard the faint sounds of a lady somewhere crying or something. Elvis introduced "Unchained Melody," sang a few bars and then abruptly stopped. The house was silent.

I lay there, heart jumping in my chest. I knew I had to move, but I couldn't. I lay there a long time and then sprung into action. I left the sandwich plate behind and shimmied up the rope, clutching my trumpet, heart jumping, running through the crawlspace to my room. I placed the trumpet safely on my bed and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt, and then back through the crawlspace, sliding down the rope, burning my hands, leaping through the basement with no regard for dead mice or salamanders. I climbed out the basement window.

There was a baseball bat lying in my backyard and I grabbed it, clutching it white-knuckled, leaning against the back wall of my house, trying to control my breathing. Deep breaths. I leaned against my house, clutching the baseball bat and I breathed, trying to calm myself down. I looked at the grass, the house, the sky. The light told me it was around six o'clock. I had been sleeping longer than I thought. My heart stopped jumping so much. I loosened my grip a bit on the bat and I walked to the front door. Bracing myself, I expected to be greeted by a grotesque apparition of The King, ready to crush me in his inhuman hands. I opened the door. There was no one there. I walked in cautiously.

My mother was sitting at the dining room table drinking a glass of wine. She looked through me, and then focused on my face. "Where have you been?" And before I could answer. "Where are your shoes?" I realized I was barefoot and my feet were cut and dirty. I shrugged. I asked her if she had heard Elvis singing. She said she didn't know what I was talking about. Then: "You shouldn't bring that baseball bat into the house," after me as I walked upstairs.

That wasn't the only time The Ghost of Elvis appeared to me....


The rest of this will appear here or somewhere else in the near future.


In the nearer future, however, another poem - perhaps a proper one this time - will be here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 4th's poem from last year.

Sunday, April 03, 2011

April 3rd - Cicadas

Nine of Diamonds - Cicadas
4 - Ruba'i


Shoot The Poet (One Sick Stanza)

We came of age one night in spring
Impromptu queens and sudden kings
Cicadas surfaced, mated, beat their tymbals
We shed our skins and sprouted wings

The touch of youth like crashing cymbals
We coyly stroked eachother's dimples
Oblivious to buzzing having gone
We always thought it would stay simple

The world looks different at dawn
Another generation spawned
As children pick up shells we left behind
We burrow deep inside our lawns

And tie ourselves with earthy binds
But lo, the dirt's comfort is kind
All nymphs: asleep in their burial mounds
The plodding clock: it winds and winds

Could it be time to come unbound?
The world above is filled with sounds
Imagining, or do I hear us sing?
The end of living underground


Poem coming here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 3rd's poem from last year.

Saturday, April 02, 2011

April 2nd - Falling In Love On The T

Queen of Spades - Falling In Love On The T
16 - Tweet Length

Falling In Love On The T

Among the bustle and the quiet
I look at you, sidelong
- your reflection -
In scuffed plexiglass


Another poem coming here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 2nd's poem from last year.

Friday, April 01, 2011

April 1st - Mitsuwa

Ten of Diamonds - Mitsuwa
15 - Acrostic




Oyako-Don (From Mitsuwa Food Court Picture Window)


It's translated as "mother and child over rice:"
Salmon mama and unborn salmon baby
Helpless
In a decorative dish

It's -
Delicious!

Eggs explode between my teeth
Salty slime on my soft palate, sliding
Under my tongue

No cries from the mother - in pieces - as I
Eat her children








Another poem coming here tomorrow...
In the meantime, check out April 1st's poem from last year.