These Lines are a Poem of Single Line Poems (and notes)

For a week, I’ve dreamed the phrase “my teeth fell out, like ivory typewriter keys,” waking and throwing my numb limbs at my face frantically searching and frantically finding.

what a relief

I think listening to He Has Left Us Alone but Shafts of Light Sometimes Grace the Corner of Our Rooms doesn’t make you a better anything, just maybe appreciative.

Don’t repeat lines I’ve said to you, trying to get me back on board the ship.

About Me: I’m not the biggest fan of dreadlocks or hula hooping.

Should I keep a notebook for this or just try and remember them?

Step One: Proving the Power of Myth – Establishing Your Very Own Myth.

He said, “well, ya really gotta get yourself published.” I said, “Oh?” Pretending like that was news.

And on the second day, we met Mountain, his sister Moon and brother Sun.

Everyone’s walking by like they actually have someplace to go.

I’ll write a longer one sooner or later.

“Life is a pity. Close the book, go on.”

I’m pretending.

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Guest Check Poetry: 233679

His face grew cold, his bones were old.

His story was timeless, it deserved to be told.

Sit with him, pray to God – “Wait.

Let him gather his memories, from each a lesson can be made.”

Say “Goodbye” – for a first, for a last,

Try and blame time, who took a hero too fast.

Laying outside, in the light of the moon.

I still see him in starts that explode too soon.

Tanka: 24

I can hear the breeze,

sounding like a faint whisper.

tells me its secrets.

the sun and the moon battle,

but love more than You or I.

The Decision to Travel Wasn’t Quick or Thought Out; But There He Was

give me hope; happiness, heaven;

give me Alexander Supertramp

alone and accepting – always accept.

give me freedom, fun,  a fire in my heart;

give me Sam Gribley with Frightful

content and complete – always completing.

give me the sun, the tide, the views you’ve spoke of.

take me to where you’ve gone when you couldn’t take it anymore.

 

so soft spoken.

 

take me to the waters of Rio de Janeiro to see their moon and compare it to ours.

take me to the mountain top – Upper Wolfjaw, Whiteface, Rocky Peak Ridge.

take me to the oceans – blue, green, mirrored images of the the sky.

take me home.

 

 

The Youth Shaped by Natural Paganism

we don’t start our days.

the sun comes, it hides the moon,

and the morn is here.

and I’ll walk the country side

stay in step with holy Ra.

Every Great Man Dies With a Gut

Everything in life

moves fast. I watched the sun split

the moon, again. and

There’s too many stars

tonight, to pick one for us.

There’s too many stars, faded and used,

to pin one to my

wall and find peace in her hue,

finding my way home to it,

thinking it might work.

You can stay awhile,

waste time and slow down, again,

light a cigarette.

Light a smoke for me,

and give me time to think.

I really don’t think

that I wholly understand

just where I should go from here.

Communication without interpretation resulted in widespread silence or Complete and total reliance

Those sleepers, comfortable and sleeping,

The stars are slowing fading,

Try and keep one pinned to your wall.

Waiters, patient and waiting,

The sky is dark and the moon has gone home.

Neon sun shines down,

Waking the men in freight cars,

Warming the women

In the subway halls,

Igniting lazy lovers

In hazy morning covers.

We traveled with thieves, but we did it alone.

Refrigerator Magnet Poems: 5

Muse Poem: Revised 3

A muse of writing,

And creativity aspiring,

I think words sound better in my head.

 

Come forth, bright blonde sun,

Push the pedal down, further,

Toward the horizon.

 

The road spits past,

Roll the windows down,

Dirt sticking to our over heated, moon cooled skin.

Turn the radio off, please,

Let’s listen to the wind

 

(listen to it)

 

That’s the speed of Kerouac,

The love in McCandless’ spirit

The pull of the lake to Wordsworth,

The word-smith.

 

Reveling in thought,

Convulsing in question.

 

Late night lullabies,

keep me awake at night.

 

O’Holy: let me sleep.

O’Holy: let me sleep.

 

O’Holy.

 

O’Holy.

Sparrow: Three

“I love the sound of the engine,

coursing its path through the night.

and with the sights of the w0rld all around us,

I can’t seem to believe it’s all chance”

said the Hawk,

“the journey of the road,

chasing the sun,

forgiving the moon.”

Up a little too late,

with a little too much wine in his stomach

and having smoked a little too much of his bag.

“But when I see such simple beauty,

a child on a swing,

a girl walking with purpose,

I notice the patterns in watching for reas0n.

It’s getting hard to live.”

“It’s not enough to notice and enjoy,”

said the Sparrow,

“but you must also take part and be destroyed.”