No ridin ridin

feather tickin puckin

tuckin luckin tween

blue velvet

I know

only dead cat stench

O bled! O poppy red!

calendar placard

tri-folded flag

Captain down

truncated return

from the nights'

pyre

all eyes and years

hands on

three

a shoulder roll

yon reverse boot

no-rider horse

that green-tinged corn beef

trimmed, baked

an oyster cracker stacked muffin

brood broad-chested

soap white

cat

Sphinxian, anvil strong

deep wood green

as the tree falls

that condor flies

O growin seed

Once upon that flat screen

the world less defined

now arms length aperture

snowflakes

silhouettes

down feathers sublime

where the cat has leapt

and ripped asunder

walk again to me.

VVV  Fly!  VVV

ol thick glass triad

seaweed waved pane

this chrome bed hoist

trapeze,

at ease 

  

  

Views: 140

Comment by J.P. Hart on March 18, 2017 at 3:57pm

Know that it's alright, FM, ty.

And yes, I see it. The poet's opportunity for more white space (enjambment) beneath 'fly' as well as at least the possibility of an exclamation point --- potentially soldering down an 'emphatic' paragraph.  Sure, 'ol Hart knows exactly where the remnant 17 cans from his Coors Light 'dozen and a half' stash (o soooooo cold another 40 year Wisconsin winter) is, but he senses he's on to something. You know.  Any day now.

Sorry to have learned of the chicken feathers. Really.

Comment by catch-22 on March 19, 2017 at 6:12am

Arms length aperture... it gets so blurry and slurry once you get closer, like hypnotism...a pretty decent ism if you have to have one.

stay warm, hart. the geese are headed back so you know you've about made it to a day you'll lie supine while the sun live streams your eyelids, clean standing rock breeze telling you the truth...

Comment by J.P. Hart on March 19, 2017 at 12:00pm

beaucoup Merci jeune beaute

Fernando et moi pour liberte !

goodness ciao, C22, several fortnights ago I'd photographed (phonegraphed) a near replica of your OS avatar risin' risin' over Loch Michigan sans that way-high ladder of yours and can't wait to finesse images to some of my 'way-hot' typing! Earlier (I'd not realized you'd commented) I began cad-camming a drone shoulder harness implement and my 'liaison' at Duluth Clothing already expresses enthusiasm.  And (if I may) my solar umbrella patent is almost off the drawing board. However, of late I'd another untimely viewing of Platoon.  So in efforts to elevate my mood, I wound up badly injured whilst 'ninja' working out on the balance beam.

Gored by the red bull, let me tell you! 

Bedridden, then, perhaps should be crumbled as it now appears to be but a 'selfish note' to circumstances that prevail.  Already I feel like editing 'dead cat stench' to 'dead falcon stench' and so forth for at least a chad more entree to holisticism.

I recall that Gary Snyder poetical regimen wherein author fasts a bit, sleeps well, perhaps sips a French Seventy-five, and first then etches the stylus to papyrus.   

Comment by J.P. Hart on March 20, 2017 at 10:13am

hiddy-hi, Rita Shibr !:

was outofdoors unfurling the prayer flags re-knotting as best with my canes and aluminum sticks unaware of your graceful words. that exaggerated shepherd's hook with its nearly too-high double arcs (family relic from the Onalaska farrier's) ...           here's haiku for 'ya, dear Rita:

crisp apple, cherry pink*****when dead of night see first light*******old hats, spring nature*****

The 'late Sixities' English Major in me already hears more than a chad of redundancy with 'spring nature'; and I must really cyber photo that rain gauge tween the Joanne Fabric artificial cacti where the well diminished snowdrift contrasts good earth, so I've opted to at least begin getting ready for autumn; o I espied hosta sharp-tipped sprouts tween frost-heaved pavers and must say geese flock formations have had their multifariously-wayward share (anarchistic?) tireless brave flights almost too high on pale sky --- just as unpredictably contra to what was. relentless in a hurry same as the typist (foot or horseback? tally-ho) wundren if before long all of the words will collapse to metaphor products.  Surprised the top CIO's haven't thought of branding the planets --- that dear POTUS hasn't imaged his smiling countenance on the moon :)

Will these problems turn out right or wrong?

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