Oldtimer

Leave me as I am, my child— 

Still holding on 

Like a raindrop on a limb. 

Definitely Not Lemmings #45

Thanks to Tracy DiPiazza for signing on--she has some real gems on view here.

Full Circle

vain

glorious immovable fool, 

stand under this marble 

moon long enough 

and you’ll become— 

what else—

a statue. 

Angel of Mourning

The magpie keeps what too easily 

The nesting dove forgets— 

A watchful eye out for what appears 

To be more than just 

A dawning of wings. 

Wonderful to Be Here, My Love

As it was many years ago, seeing 

The couple that seemed old 

To us then, wondering what it was 

He was saying as they walked 

Arm in arm round the Parthenon, 

When he squeezed her hand 

And she answered yes dear, 

Clearly it must have been 

A day much like this one. 

Wary of Being Panned in Public, Publius Ovidius Naso Lambasts Himself Piteously, though Still Failing to Abort the Metamorphoses of the Masses Brought on by the Likes of One Alfredius E. Neumano, Roman Gadfly

Spare the rod? Holy Jupiter, are you mad, 

Ovidius? Shove that spit into that kid before

He turns us all into fawning muttonheads. 

In Transit

recently departed bus 

passenger gone but 

these handles on 

seat back still 

warm to touch 

Sirocco over Hellas

Muammar, 

If you were here I would tell you 

Today it rained buckets of red 

Dust brought from that distant 

Desert of your late despotat— 

A not unusual phenomenon when one considers

That maddening south wind blows hard 

Enough to take one’s head off. 

Rainbow

So bewildering 

To follow the spectrum 

Of the spirit, I was walking in 

Iridescent rain and thought I was 

Walking towards it. 

Being Swept off My Feet

Do I hear folly calling me again in guise of air? 

Well, blow me down—how was it I was unaware 

A whirlwind muse kept my frenzy hidden there. 

Stargazers

Not there 

Where we can be 

Seen but over here 

In this little corner of the world 

Where the stars lead 

To stairs that are invisible. 

Long Distance Runner Nearing Finish Line

Though you can’t make anything out yet, 

Near as the nearest phone booth, 

Someone’s making an emergency call.

Sleepwalker's Somniloquy

Don’t tell me 

Better to wake dreaming 

Than dream waking— 

I know. 

NB: It’s Vazambam's post number 1000 and time to express my thanks to all those who have been generous with their comments and/or silent presence over these past three-and-a-half years; this blog has brought me in touch with many tremendously gifted people I’d never have dreamed of meeting had I not started it and I’m grateful—just wanted you to know.

Brainstorm after Dry Spell

Mind’s eye spies gusher in olives 

After cleansing rain leaves oil slick.

Out-of-the-box Thinking Straight from the Centaur's Mouth

What are you looking at, buster? It happens 

I was years ahead of my time so 

If you think you’re a forerunner, 

Sink your teeth into this— 

My head could’ve been a horse’s ass 

Just like yours, running backwards. 

Late Winter Metamorphoses

This motionless old woman 

Looks like nothing so much 

As a lone black coat left on a bench. 

But she stirs 

As I approach and notice a grey blur 

Departing her left shoulder—a large locust 

Now fully airborne, heading I think, for the sun. 

Foolproof Modus Operandi

Just keep saying you’re nobody’s fool

Making sure nobody’s around to prove it. 

Raison D'être?

Because they are splendid 

Windbreakers, cypresses ring cemeteries— 

But that’s not the only reason 

They take our breath away.

Tenement Row Syndrome

Isn’t that where our lot turns in 

To a block of vacant stare cases?

Using Your Horse Sense

Riding a winged horse 

Sounds downright fantastic, 

Doesn't it? 

Just make sure it leads you 

To water you can drink. 

Classic Dionysian Drinking Song

So, Bacchus, old friend, 

Here we go again, staggering 

Down timeworn marble steps 

To a dank beckoning cellar— 

Let’s drink to that to no end. 

Poetry Slam in the Garden

Did you say slugfest? 

I hear that’s where you squash them summer 

Moonlighting sloggers one by one till there ain’t no 

Undisputed champion of cabbage heads left punching 

Cauliflower ears in them rutabaga leaves 

No more. 

Nada: My Own Private Idaho

Today I spent the morning writing about yesterday, 

And thought it was good I had something to say— 

The rest of the day I thought about tomorrow, 

And what I’d write about if there was no tomorrow. 

Body of Water

In his sleep, he saw 

The goddess had awakened 

On a moonlit strand— 

And was now walking on waves 

Swathed in phosphorescence 

Back to no man’s land.

Out on a Limb

Imagine loving a tree—is that so foolish? 

Look at you earthbound 

Looking up at me, caught up 

In that instant, what kind of fool 

Can you see? 

Interior Architecture

People keep asking us why 

Our house has so many windows— 

When we were designing it, 

My wife and I decided 

It would have as many windows 

On the world as necessary 

To make us feel at home inside.

Logorrhea, My Contribution to World Poetry Day

We run off at the mouth whenever we say whatever 

We put down is what we have to say and nothing’s going stop us, 

Come what may— 

Okay, bulldozers, let’s have it our way but 

What are we going to say when our treads are sinking in deep 

Shit with everybody running the opposite way? 

Ventriloquist aka Monsanto's GMO Stool Pigeon

Talk about someone throwing their voice! 

Even the head of our dummy corporation can’t tell 

Where the next rat’s coming from. 

Lonesome Pine Inn

Much too crying out loud thinking 

The reticence where 

Soon to be boxed in 

A canyon resonating 

Somewhere out there. 

Guttersnipes

Who gives a shit about your so-called catharsis, big shot? 
Whatever it is for you, for us it’s always going to be another 


One of your effluent turds gargling in our gutter.

Ball-buster Driving Last Nail in Coffin

I gotta hand it to you, stud— 

When you said your body was perfect, 

You hit the nail on the head. 

Down-to-Earth Niedecker

To be beautifully lost 
For a time takes as long 
As one finds time 

Enough to give in 
To such frivolous fancy, 
And for me that’s poetry— 

But the shine on the pendulum says 
Your time’s up, Mister, so take that 
Crock of shit back to where you found it. 

Wolfbane

Moonstruck, a banshee’s wailing—why 

Is the wind not howling 

Huddled behind my door?

Fragment of Logbook Entry, Greek Dark Ages

. . .unverified sighting of sea creature 

resembling Kraken reported. . . . . . .

. . . unintelligible spreading. . . . . . .

inkblot on surface pointing 

fingers not so rosy dawn 

crawling over edge— 

take it down!

A Penny for Your Thoughts, Your Honor

Your precious daughter, Jerri Prudence? 

She ain’t worth a plugged nickel 

No more—she done 

Hollered dirty copper after— 

Not before I robbed her cradle— 

She ain’t gonna throw no porno look at me 

No more.

An Epic, More or Less

He who hopes to grow in spirit. . . . 

will not be afraid of the destructive act: 

half the house will have to come down. 

—Cavafy, “Growing in Spirit” 

If that’s what the old man believes

Muse, keep piling on the detritus— 

Then have caterpillars tread on me, 

Mopping up the mess. 

Realtor Turned Politician Selling America

Nothing specious about 

this property 

so deceptively spacious 

and so upfront—just 

imagine you’re a midget

playing pool with an ace 

up your sleeve, a big white house 

in your ass pocket.

Elderly Immigrant in Rest Home

What more you want me to say? 

They brought me to America 

When I was not yet four— 

No memories of the motherland, 

No children no dreams left 

To even up the score. 

Curtains in Hellas

….and the winning entry in our annual 

Summer Art Imitating Nature category is

Ms. Phyllophila Ephemera’s highly original 

And bewitchingly lifelike pattern—

A myriad of houseflies captured for posterity 

On an arresting white background! 

(Applause) 

The Proprietor of the Paradise Inn

Tainted goods? My apologies 

But they weren’t always spoiled— 

They went off when 

I caught them in the pantry 

With their pants down, eating 

Rotten apples.

Chef de la Birdbrains

Merde du poulet! My mind 

On ever greater things to create,

In my jardin d'herbes I did not see

 

Under the sage that petite yellow crocus

On my way back to the kitchen— 

Mon Dieu! In my next life, please

 

Bring me back as a chicken. 

 

 

Cypresses in Eden

Because they fail to regenerate when cut back too severely, 

Cypress trees have been associated with the underworld for ages— 

They also bear small round seed cones resembling apples, 

But no one would ever be caught dead trying to eat them. 

Aram Saroyan on Huuklyeand Cinquor's Sucker Fishing in America

BLUREBS

You Did Say Abbott and Costello, Didn't You?

“That person”, that demonstrative impersonal 

Third person singular who’s lost

. 

His identity, why would anybody speak 

Of himself like that? 

. 

In the first place, you might ask 

Who is going to answer? 

. 

In the second—man oh man forget it— 

Here comes the Babe 

. 

Who’s just cleaned the bases and is now

Rounding third, headed for home! 

Common Ground

Muse, I’m at a loss for words— 

Each step I take towards you, 

You take one back—please, 

Don’t be so mean—like everyone else, 

I too wonder what all this artful dodging means. 

Cupid's Arrow, Deflected

You said you were going 

To show me how 

Much you needed me. And me? 

I turned away and missed 

Your point completely. 

Hamming It Up at Grauman's Chinese Theater

After hands-down performance, 

head temporarily in firmament— 

feat soon to be cast 

permanently in cement.

Gesture

unmistakable 

streaming unerring beck 

a song 

birds call. 

Et Leviathan Ego

I swear if I were God, I’d tear a hole 

In the heavens to hide myself, 

Knowing full well that blasphemy 

And evil so dark 

The universe would rend itself asunder to know. 

On I-90 in Big Sky Country, 1976

A below zero morning somewhere between 

Bozeman and Billings, a small blue-colored bird 

On a wire fence with the road ice keeping us moving along 

Slow enough to see its breath another cumulus cloud forming.