Friday, July 24, 2020

longer than yesterday (one line haiku sequence-Marlene Mountain and Francine Porad)

marlene mountain      francine porad

one-line-linked haiku two  december 1992-august 1993


longer than yesterday


'a heart attack waiting to happen' today longer than yesterday
bombs over Baghdad inaugural fireworks
they play spit in the ocean make that 26 million gallons of oil
smooth talk of sacrifice hit up for another loan
at his birth 1 year ago tonight 'why wasn't i a grandmother first?'
play center toddlers wildly bouncing, bouncing

in control with a paintbrush . . . foxglove stand at attention
wendy talks of buying a gun wearing it using it
the agony of fear and pain thank God for acetamin oxyco

more rain mother nature and i disagree
quarreling they revert to their childhood pecking order

he 'what's wrong with women' she 'men'
jokingly Yeltsin asks Clinton 'does Hillary have a sister'

dirty dirty i feel dirty spring onion sets
grass five inches high new dad smiles as he mows

beneath the killing field bird goddess
startled awake memories I've never shared

warning adult female haiku xx-rated

paintings hung i declare myself 'crone without a cause'
belligerent expression self-portrait in process
years of need resolve she dreams of sex with her mother
hot sun burning my feet
babe music begins before the camera finds the babe
mobile of Disney characters spins to Brahms
no chance to hug young mark good-bye the quilt now larger
free time to paint or write or knit . . . clouds drift
the heat another dear jane i don't know what i'm doing begun
haiku reader I admire his nature poems and curly hair
our rivers 1/3 polluted or 2/3 ok lakes 1/2 polluted or 1/2 ok
flood waters recede mud and crud in every house

roadblock ahead his gloved hand directs the traffic's flow

just a torso in the rapist's trunk
three cemetery plots purchased I reserve the middle one
marija finally an archeologist i can love
excavation the statue's breasts adorned with red paint
kicks but no kisses for the 'comfort women'

notes
5m) book title  12m) nbc's 'reasonable doubts'

Point Judith Light october 1993

Thursday, July 23, 2020

monotanka 7/23

watching.  his work-roughened hands.  doing.  a dry sketch.  of the woman's sleeping face

**

a family of four.  arriving -  i have wondered.  what it would be like.  to have kids

**

her hair.  in a messy bun.  suddenly I've grown tired.  of.  smiling at every passing guest

tanka 7/23

nothing so gay
as an exotic dance
or the turning
of leaves
on tired branches

**

on the southern side
an empty parking lot -
i can 
think of nothing
but being in bed

**

after dashing off
a few anti-ghazals
the cute one
calls the front desk
asking for my help

**

my ol' man is insular...
he's to himself
and then 
there's me
searching for my skin

**

after work
enjoying
a cigarette (though i don't smoke)
and a small cup
of vodka

**

have i become 
a drunk?
these days
it is Crown n' Coke
that satisfy me

**

tonight...
i secretly hope 
or not so secretly hope
that i don't have to 
greet another person

**

these days 
i am doing the work
excavating 
my own self for the
authentic me

**

7/23/20 F) Anti-Ghazal

at the mouth of the ocean, feet firmly in the sand.

tongue of the water, surprisingly cool.


it was in the ‘Waterless Month’ that mama died.

after that, i slowly began to crawl out of my skin.


the sound of another black body bending backwards,

and breaking; yes breaking into seared minds. 


it was the bright yellow zinnias that made me think

of ‘Black Lives Matter’ painted on streets. 


it is past the ‘Waterless Month’ and still some people

don’t accept Racism as a thing or that Black Lives Matter.









monotanka

crafting my last.   piece of poetry.   he and i.   sit on this phone.   he lightly snoring in my ear

American Sonnet 1

not too much that can be said (though i am 

never at a loss for words.) on tonight of all 

nights. on my bed lie several poetry books and

suddenly im in the mood to craft a few anti-

ghazals (though id like to call mine blues ghazals

in memory of Adrienne Rich). now i don’t fancy

rhyming just as i don’t fancy the way he kisses me

goodbye and hello...all tongue and wetness against

the coolness of my cheeks. thats neither here nor 

there. this motel world is a bit unsettling, id much

rather be in a place where no one and everyone is

aware of my name, but refers to me as ‘light honey’

or ‘brotha O.’ once home for work, i got into the 

shadows of my bed, grabbed my chromebook and

quickly crafted a few american sonnets for ‘black men

who sometimes don’t ever walk into their true selves.’


7/23/20 D) Anti-Ghazal


we’ve sat on the phone in silence putting voice,

and words to our pain. now you’re asleep.


what use do i have for games of kickball and 

chasing after babies when that aint my thang?


Sunday mornin’s: up, fed, bathed, and dressed 

we head to the praise-house for the next 2 hours.


worked a 8 hr shift, got home, got naked and in bed.

well into the night, watching Netflix; typing poems.


does ‘unhappiness’ have a unique scent, or a scent at all? 

or is it the rankness of despair that i'm confusing?


longer than yesterday (one line haiku sequence-Marlene Mountain and Francine Porad)

marlene mountain       francine porad one-line-linked haiku two  december 1992-august 1993 longer than yesterday 'a heart attack waiting...