Downright Right Java Near Mount Ithome

I must tell you 
There’s no better 
Boon than this sterling light 

Dawn after dawn down 
Here in these boondocks rich 
In uncluttered vistas made 

For the out-of-the-way 
Mind and the view 
Of this mountain 

And the rosy- 
Colored sheen 
On the handle 

Of my bright 
Silver spoon tells me 
This brew keeps mighty 

Fine company, too. 

Sailing The Seas Of Uncertainty: Unprofitable Line

With surfeit salvaging
Provisions in hand and buoyed

By the prospect of perhaps
Reeling in a real doozy

Or two, one after
Another, you keep on

Throwing your one
And only precious

Life savers out—
Anything new in view?

Widow's Ephemeral Thoughts

—R.I.P. Terry Tisdale 

Dear God, I know only 
A moment’s needed 

For that low-lying dark 
Cloud overhead to pass— 

Grant me an eternity 
Of light so 

I too can pass 
This moment by 

At last. 

Eye-opening Spring Morning Inkling

Hoping to take in more 
Than enough to get you 
Through yet another day, 
You’re out in the garden next

To the flower beds when 
You stop dead in your tracks
(As they say) dumb-founded 
By the insistent scratching

Of sparrows sparring over
Last year’s seeds overlooked 
In the few scrubby weeds 
Remaining a few steps away. 

Clacker's Last Stand

Thinking you were nothing
Short of infallible, the last thing
You needed was to find everything
And everyone lacking and you
Lying through your teeth still
At the head of the class.

Invocational Anaepestic Distich: Spring Garlands Hither And Tither

From eager-to-flower gardens 
Beneath diaphanous air 

Come scents of sweet jasmine 
Heaven sent there.

Badass Yahoos Just Like The Plague, I Kid You Not

As I live and breathe, 
This world may be ours
To do with as we please, 
Dear hearts, but it so happens
It is naught but fraught 
With deadly foibles 
To be avoided by all, 
Including you who choose 
To live as if in a void, 
Is it not?

When You Haven't Got A Leg To Stand On, This One Wins Hands Down

Because

The way I see it, penning 
Poems about writing 
Poetry is as grotesque 
As waking up to find 
A glaring rosy-

Fingered dawn luridly
Fondling your very own 
Brand spanking new heart-
Throbbing precious lower 
Third limb, stud.


 

You Heard It Here First, Oldtimer

Hey,

Whatever happened 
To good old you-know-who

That kept on saying Here 
Today, you-know-what 

Gone to ever so 
Lasting morrow? 

To Each His Own--Time Warped Homonyms, Too

One of these days 
You’ll discover that 
Living with yourself 

Has become so 
Exhilarating as going through 
The rest of your life digging 

Out of the black hole 
Of the daze you’ve dug 
Yourself wholly into. 

To Whom It May Concern

new from facqueuesol paperless books

the intricate evasions of as

selected poems,1980-2010

(part one)

by

vassilis zambaras

read it for free at

https://facqueuesol-books.jimdofree.com/the-intricate-evasions-of-as/

Wild-eyed And Wooly Rebel Have-not

Unfettered 
From the commonplace 
In the wilderness 

Of his thoughts, he keeps 
An eye out for any 
Encroaching 

Domesticated strays hell- 
Bent on shaping
His made-to-order universe

Into a world full 
Of nothing but empty 
Have-lots of naught. 

Elusive Poet's Clearly Indefinite Longing

I want 
To describe 

A certain indescribable 
Hue of yellow 

By looking closely 
At how 

I cannot.

Discrete Series Ruse Number One

Muse, no matter 
Where or when 
I find myself wanting, 
Without fail I try 
Sounding out 
Those most discreet— 
Yea, coy even, vocables— 
By counting back- 
Wards from a hundred, 
Always coming up against 
That most singular constant 
Loneliest one, my old friend.