I am writing/posting a minimalist-like poem each day until the end of November; & I don’t know exactly why.
Shout out to editor, Mary-Jane Grandenetti, webmaster, Lonnard Dean Watkins, and readers at Muse-Pie Press for their current issue of The Fib Review & for including three of my Fibonacci.
Nowhere Marathon Man
Old Apartment November Chill
a preschool brown blanket
cocoon on the floor
nose to the teaching
black & white Zenith TV
the radiator rattling ends…
a working mother’s key enters
the top lock.
Dia de los Muertos on The Lido Deck
sinking in the sea”
she said, playing with the ice cubes
in her third gin & tonic, while I swallowed the worm.
Note: November 1-2, 2021, The Norwegian Bliss is on Route from Los Angeles to Puerto Vallarta and The Carnival Dream from Galveston, Texas to Costa Maya.
American Sentences: Missing a Body & Face
Poetry was arrested in Queens New York for being radical.
Poetry now sits on death row writing lines for Julian Assange.
1. It has come to this: There is not one free reading series or free open mic in Queens, and we no longer have a Queens Poet Laureate (state approved or not); fact check this. Free poetry events in public spaces were disappearing before COVID; how are they doing in your neck of the woods?
2. The “American sentence,” 17 syllables in one vernacular line, was proposed by Allen Ginsberg as an American take on the Japanese haiku. These two sentences may not be imagistic enough.
Small Group Interaction & Communication 101
stares even better.
Are we patients in a circle?
When he says, “No one is to leave this room or their seats,”
I look for the closest exit.
When he says, “Don’t hit
Dreams the Frigidaire & Matches Again
took him back
to their burned down home
after seeing his G.I. Joe frozen with Barbie
on two ice cube trays for twin beds, his lovely sister
finishing his mango ice cream
after having hers,
his worst find
We do not deserve your orbit: Cosmic slide closer
to the Sun, Mercury could have
a hot new soul mate!
in the sea,
the life guard’s
fill with water.
On The Corner of Queens Boulevard & Jewel Ave
Prim pretty lady
beneath white saucer hat
glances past traffic
steps off the curb
Giving the world’s craggy
edges soft wrinkles
cliffs with sea shores
harvesting where bones decay
Predator Night Owl
a running meal
on the ground—
moon light mouse!
Hail! Smell The Great President Don Joe Triden & The Republicrat Party!
Smell! Smell! Carry on as our big corporate political assholes as we swallow your shit!
The U.S. Minimum Wage
Dad, really? Gladiators said, “We who are about to die, salute you” to Cesar? Not Quite.
Note: Still not filling Ginsberg’s prescription with these two attempts: not imagistic enough AND gave them titles. Maybe this is a new form: The American Mini-political rant.
Leaving The Hamptons
Salvia Divinorum held me down last night for a tickle & disappeared too soon.
Perhaps, missing Sativa, she flew back on a red-eye to Sierra Mazateca.
If she loves me, she’ll return with Sativa & a case of Mezcal
for a heavenly threesome in a room with a view of the ocean!
Death by vodka in a seedy dark room in Las Vegas has been done.
Lonnie D is back
on the Corner…“I left
my right leg in Iraq.
Fuck it!”… popping crazy
on my forehead,
mine on their heart,
Cracka: Short Film Short Review
If, on a limited budget, you time transport a swastika tattooed white supremacist war hero, in chains, back to a Southern plantation to slave for black masters, to be raped, battered and fried, only to become more rabidly murderous by the film’s end, instead of being Disney baby-formula redeemed, then, obviously, this film’s director/producer is a divisive race-baiter looking to outrage black people and scare whites—say the critics making sure few people see Cracka. So cancelation and obscurity in order, one should not see Cracka and consider this 22 minute film trash. Amazon appears to have stopped carrying it under pressure; you can sign the petition against it here. Some critics are quick to mention Dale “Rage” Resteghini is known for shooting music videos and is no Quentin Tarantino! Tarantino’s Django Unchained also attempted to get at the U.S. brand of slavery and made 4.25 million at the box office; his characters also broke the movie record for repeating the great North American epithet…need I say it?
You can see Cracka for free on VYRE. I give it a C+ and B+ for risk taking.
If its simple premise, or the like, appears in a nuanced feature film; made with a big Hollywood budget; produced/directed by Spike Lee or Jordan Peele; starring Denzel Washington and Leonardo DiCaprio; to be released in Regal theatres, who knows what grade it would merit.
I keep wondering if we will ever see a nationally released film that authentically depicts U.S. slavery down to the bones? Who would want to see it? Why now?
My brother disappeared
in his imaginary father’s
found bible, where
he found answers &
forgiveness for anything
he would lay on anyone.
My father disappeared
when I was a newborn &
forgiveness sounds nice.
Not Waving, Not Drowning, On Land Smiling
When the young lady with the very pretty face and equally attractive cleavage
ringing up the shaky old man’s groceries at Anthony’s corner Bodega told him
the way he was looking at her made her uncomfortable, He said, “Please excuse
me; I just remembered the precise moment I became aware of having erections:
it was in Mrs Ferrugio’s fourth grade class, with addition up on the board; and I
find how you do not need a scanner to add up my things wonderfully impressive.”
November 19, 2021
Earth casts its longest shadow for the longest time in near six-hundred years on my moon.
Silly to call moon mine as I just have, perhaps;
yet, I want to call earth mine too,
as well as this land,
“Paˈ lante, Siempre Paˈ lante!”
If you knew the daily walk
from 1421 Longfellow Ave
down Freeman Street
to the Westchester Ave
Bronx River overpass,
then onto Bronx River Ave
up to James Monroe High School 1972-76
then back, knowing
this was the poorest urban district in the country,
you would understand
why “Paˈ lante, Siempre Paˈ lante!”
are words as dear to some Puerto Ricans
as God Bless
Let’s start tracing
your depression and anxiety
He Wins Again! (with Norton, Schadenfreude & Company)
loves to make
big fat pasteles
picante—chock full of fresh cuts
of carne—he lays out, to applause, for publishers.
To Be Continued, Or Not
The mass of men live lives of quiet desperation— Henry Thoreau
Most men live lives wanting adoration.
Most men live lives of incomplete maturation.
Most men live lives of endless masturbation.
Most men live lives of drowning perspiration.
Most men live lives of shallow inspiration.
Most men live lives of bought & sold castration.
Most men live lives of manufactured alienation.
Most men live lives on the front lines of negation.
Most men live lives the tools of heartless nations.
Most men live lives unaware they’re born creation
iteration to iteration to iteration to iteration or not.
Ease in S
in both thighs
My antiquarian cracked
filled with remarkable
except for the missing
On To Do List: Stuff it!
Two bicycles crashed
into each other.
His old widow stands
by his fresh interment—alone,
silent, cold, done.
What it Takes on the Run
My backhand passing shot down the line
kissed the baseline corner so sweetly,
falling asleep before midnight
are what dreams are made on.
the same compartment
since Ronald Regan took office
(before computers & cell phones went to bed with us),
far from spectacular bombings of Grenada, Yugoslavia,
Kuwait, Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Palestine (safe, no worries!).