To write in verse is to lesion ideas

Spawn iambic eagles that poke out my eyes

Henry waddlesworth knew he was

He was a pickulissifus he was

But didn’t know that in his palm

Was a grain of dirt from morn’s quook gatherun

That housed colony upteen of species eleven

Under the far-spread  Infinigranulion Federation.

Henry W’s palm’s crease incubated colony upt

Which would soon have built infrastructure enough

To send its own colonists to unknown regions.

Inspiration at the Local Cafe

This public place where space-less linger, rapt,

Gives me solace. Where fair cherry wood seats

Accept my back, and I cannot adapt

To clatter of Protean mouths and beats.

I thrive among this amorphous clatter,

Have grown fond of noise and unfamiliar

Faces but familiar seat and chatter

Of voices unregistered but so near.

It’s like I dive in fluctuating sea

Where rippling currents defy cognition

Until elusive old man Noise decrees

After I clasp and persist: perception.

Each visit I grapple the novel mood

‘Til chaos morphs at last into my muse.

caution ramble draft

Tired tired too tired to think? Unadmired. What am I trying to say?

Sometimes speech can be difficult, but a smile shines through. Thoughts can be difficult, but a good notion can explode into a big-bang colossal everywhere-extending breadth and blind the dark vacant mind with redyellowpink bright blossoming bliss that creates clouds that make burning spheres that form stars and planets and life. An initial minor impulse of effort is impetus for the unfathomable.

Well-Cut Sashimi

Why do I fear speaking?

Seeking, sea king, peeking

Duck?

I yearn to open my mind to another

But the gates are iron-bolted

And the gnome key-keeper keeps the key

From me.

I want to tell a story

Improvised and invented

Indifferent to its quality

Only speaking.

I, the sea king

Seeking fearlessly across reality’s wakes,

Peeking into the enigmatic,

Subtle, dark, and cloudy sea

And rising

With a silver-scaled fish in my beak.

Undersea

I admit that I speak infrequently

And will make you feel awkward. If you can

Break through broken conversation—

Crashing breakers that roar with white foam

That gurgles on turbid green shores—

And dive and bear building pressure and popping ears,

Then we may meet beneath the turmoil

In an undersea dome.

Lilacs grow here, and the water

Is somehow more clear. Speech is still scarce,

But as we sit side-by-side on a green carpet

Of algae and grass beside a river trickling through coral-rock,

I feel like we have found an Elysium,

That reveals the rolling anxious waves

As mere undulating currents.

Among these fluctuations

We seem to understand.

But remember: mind the stream.

A Fall Day

I sit on a wrought iron table

Beside white-paneled wall intermixed with brick.

It Never Entered My Mind coos

And temperate flushes of autumnal winds

Uplift evergreen scent and sunny specks and a red-yellow leaf

And coax me into contemplative mood.

A crusted demitasse and empty glass

Stand beside my folded palms

And through ringed somnolent eyes

I stare at sugarcane plant plumes bulging black against the clouds

Into blue-purple sky.

I Probably Shouldn't Have

Crashing crunch of tires skidding on loose dirt

And flying dust debris and jerk of rattling

Creaking broken pipe steaming

Were background to my mind screaming

When I saw your face slam against the dashboard.

As soon as my unconscious death-grip loosened

From the wheel I clutched your shoulders

And pulled your face into view. Your features are similar
But fresher than mine. Your cheeks are aflame and nose leaks blood,
But your eyes gleam life through bewilderment.

I am glad you are unharmed. I slumbered

At the wheel and car is bent smoking

But you are alive.