friends

When all other friends desert,

he remains. When riches take wings and reputation

falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love
as the sun in its journey through the heavens.

If misfortune drives the master forth an outcast
in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks

no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard
against danger, to fight against his enemies…

faithful and true even to death.

--From a speech given by the late Senator Vest of Missouri,

in the trial of a man at Warrensburg, who had killed a dog

belonging to his neighbor. Mr. Vest represented the plaintiff;

he won.

The speech is inscribed on the Old Drum Memorial,

Warrensburg, Missouri, 1870.

just a dog

Dearest Lindie:

I found you at the pound,

we busted you out of prison.

Quicker than 5-Second Nail Glue, fast friends instantly.

You defined loyalty. In a New York minute.

Like a child, you innately distilled

the purest meaning of love. Love so pure

it hurt. You wet-kissed me

when I cried. I kissed you gratefully

every night.

My BFF. I miss you.

I can do this!

I think. I can.

I think I can, Thomas

who is my friend said

so, and so I can.

http://tinyurl.com/dylmot

white plastic box

Because she is so
linda.
My best friend
ever.

Oh, God
I love her.
Why
did she have to die?

She's just a dog
they all said; just get another one.
Bury the body. In any old back yard;
now she's just a pile of bones, soon forgotten.
Alone, numb, weeping mutely, I lifted her stiff body.
Her once-warm heart no longer beating. One final trip in the car.
This last, a misadventure.

Would you bury your mom
in any old back yard?
A small, white plastic box,
its neatly typed label: Lindie Beller.
Renews my river of sorrow.
Hot, salty tears, torrents, sting my cheeks;
impossible heartache crushes my chest. Just bones. Now ashes.

Oh, dear God! the pain, its weight unbearable.
My heart, warm only from the blood still pulsing through it,
has cracked, ripped, fractured: tiny pebbles of glass
from a vandalized car. My heart, now a black hole never-ending.
Black as coal, dark and dense, and rough-edged.
My grief is fatal, hopeless, beyond recall.
Please, God, bring her back. please.

for sydney louise, continued

Oh, yes, and by the way
thank-you for the flowers, and the lovely sea-shells
adorning Lindie's resting-place, in the purple sky.

Alice, in Wonderland, a very silly girl
says in honor of your grandma and the color pink
I'm going to call you Squeezie! Just because.

Go to bed! It’s very late
the Princess looks like Grumpy Bear, early in the morning.
Oh! Thank goodness! There is no need to dress for school.

But my, oh, my, what do I smell?
Rebelliousness brewing, in the coffee-pot.
Please watch out, mama! This coffee can be hot.

couldn't sleep again last night

The Nightmare by Fuseli (1781)

a draft of my latest nightmare

I'm suffocating. In this thick,
oppressive, Mojave Desert
heat. Choking
in this dust-bowl. Stagnating
in this godforsaken, fruitless, one-
horse-town. Asphyxiating in this armpit
of America.

This barren desert earth mocks me
with a mirthful cackle.
This howling arid wind groans
with a forlorn song. Together
they sing, a cacophony
of baneful voices,
to my wearied soul.

for sydney louise, continued

Multi-colored crayons draw
kaleidoscopic rainbows
all by my niece Sydney, a most gifted artist.

I collect them all, to some day make
a great big, giant rainbow. So that I can climb,
into the sky, with diamonds.

It’s all in the mind y’know, that’s what Ringo says
and I’m in back, head in the clouds
then I’m gone!

Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
and then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

sonnet schmonnet

Sonnet for Rosetta

So proud, dear cousin, you were a Burton;
Sagacious, you changed; anew, a LeNoire.

You countered, embraced, a life of hurtin';
Like Joan of Arc, you battled in a war

As actor, as sage, as patient teacher.
The burning wrongs, to young eyes, a pity;

Your home, Hell's Kitchen: an angry preacher
For an innocent soul, in New York City.

Your mother, she died on a dirty floor--
Such anguish. Paltry words, with such a punch:

A hospital, Harlem, no blacks past the door.
Biting words, yours: Darkest raisin in the bunch.

But you broke the color bar, this: your berth
said The New York Times, when you left this earth.

Jelly-Belly

There once was a young lass named Shelly
who couldn't stop filling her belly~
From lemon merengue
to sugar-free Tang~
but NEVER unsweetened toe-jelly.

for Sydney Louise continued

random thoughts, from a random aunt

Shiny head of curli-cues
sweet, sweet voice of Minnie Mouse
or, Girl on Helium.

A Fashionista Dee-vine!
In lovely groovy bell-bottoms
and matching sequined purple purses.

When I die, I’m going to leave you
all my high-heeled shoes
and, all my books.

a better one

Torridy Lorridy
Moral Majority,
scourge of debauchery's
priapic zoo,

plague of all nympho- and
gynecomaniacs'
endless libidinous
hullaballo.

--Anonymous

a double-dactyl

Hestimus-festimus
Felix Domesticus
Regal as princes and
lazy as bums.

Partial to canned food and
ultra-magnanimous
folks who have got those op-
posable thumbs.

--Anonymous

Little Miss

Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
eating her curds and whey.
Along came a spider
who sat down beside her,
and frightened Miss Muffet away.

Little Miss Mary got rather hairy;
her nose, it started to grow.
Along came a bear
who said, "Hey! You there!
You ate my porridge, you ho."

Are you

up for the challenge?

A poem a day.

I don't want

to hear excuses,

go now; git!

Start writing,

or support

a poet and buy

his/her book.

Poor Shelly

There once was a woman named Shelly
who spent every night watching telly.
But she drank too much wine
in her crystal so fine
while she nibbled on cheeses so smelly.
And then one night~
in her winesoaked stupor
she fell into the pooper.
And that~
was the end of poor Shelly.

something to make you smile

Ray's my man. This is for all jazz lovers.

A Conversation

I was having a conversation the other day
with God, and I said, God
I really fucked up big time and I
made a smelly mess here, and God said,
Girlfriend (God calls me that when I’m
feeling like a rank pile of fusty brown poop),
Girlfriend, God said, you’re doing
just fine.

NaPoWriMo

For Sydney Louise
random thoughts, from a random aunt


Purple-pink teddy bears
are cordially invited, to a birthday tea.
With Ariel, Tinker Bell, and little brother Kevin.

And don’t forget a special guest
our favorite cupcake Hello Kitty!
Dressed to eat in pretty pink frosting.

She is six going on sixteen
such a beauty, such a Queen.
And she’s much, much, more: she's sassy, she’s smart, and oh! so sexy.

Happy Poetry Month!

Let’s read some great poetry! Let’s write some even better poems! Let’s turn our friends and family on to the pleasures of verse! And let’s have some boisterous, jolly good fun in the process! National Poetry Month is an annual celebration of the art of poetry, with the goal of increasing appreciation and support for poetry and poets. I challenge you.

National Poetry Month was started by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, and has been gaining momentum every year since. They've got some fun ideas for enjoying the art of poetry, and while the purists may groan, I think it's cool. Visit the Academy of American Poets at poets.org. Or visit the blog of your favorite contemporary poet. Buy his or her book of poetry. Write something. One of my goals is to write a poem every day (yikes!) I'll add some other fun ideas so I don't get bored, whenever the mood strikes me. Here's my first challenge to you: start out with some easy stuff. Pick one of your favorite poems, gather some friends, and discuss it with them. Pick something you wrote, or a famous poem. Why do you like it? What makes it good? If it's old, what makes it stand the test of time? If it's contemporary, what makes it stand out over others? Have fun!