I try so hard to/
do what’s right. I am sorry/
and sad when I fail.
Monthly Archives: January 2015
Ambivalence Versus Fear: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku
What if she is not/
ambivalent? What if she/
is just scared? Like me?
To The Poet Who Keeps Writing About A Woman He’s Not Marrying: Romantic IMprov Limerick
While I keep reading such words,/
I still find them slightly absurd:/
You’ve not taken her away!/
Shouldn’t emotions expressed this way/
be acted upon, and not just heard?
Plus this couplet:
(I’m not meaning to be critical. /
It just seems to be such a riddle.)
No Air Guitar Today: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
“What’s the Frequency/
Kenneth” doesn’t rock with tin/
computer speakers.
Battered Suitcase: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament
The suitcase she gave/
me is all busted up, like/
our relationship.
I Am Charlie: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Poem
Whether for cartoonists,
or cops,
or comics
or commentators,
or dancers,
or artists,
or poets,
or actors,
or journalists,
or designers,
or satirists,
or writers,
we stand,
free,
and dance,
free,
and paint,
free,
and create,
free,
and write,
free,
and speak,
freely,
free.
Can you hear
the people sing,
and speak,
and draw,
and write,
and dance,
and act,
and be?
Je suis
Charlie.
Utah Radio Gong Show: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Poetry Lament
Will someone,
PLEASE!
beg Utah radio DJs
to STOP!
their silly prattling
over the final
epic
“GONG!”
at the end of
Queen’s
“Bohemian Rhapsody“?
Let the gong
song
FINISH!
Because
it does
really
matter
to me.
(Any way the wind blows).
My Memory, No Video, Remembers: Revolutionary IMprov Free Verse Poetry
He saw
a desert picture,
Mojave,
her costume,
her children,
the stage,
and remembered.
Somewhere,
in Ecotopia?
there is video
proof:
A costume’d man,
Teenage
Mutant
Ninja Turtle
(popular the first time around)
standing on a balcony
stage,
as soft light
through the patio window
breaks.
He’s surrounded by
young ballerinas,
Merry Misses,
missing the raindrops
and the mist,
laughing,
skipping,
she directing.
Were there tissues
and cloth
and streamers?
Moving,
Swirling,
Dancing
around him,
(old yet young,
giggling)
chanting:
“excellent.
Excellent!
EXCELLENT!”
It was her first
video choreograph.
It was finished,
parked,
and lost.
He never saw it,
that videoed memory,
most excellent,
but in his mind,
he can recall
those better,
more pure
days,
and dances.
Even without
the video,
taped,
and the paper mache’
green and purple,
long since crushed
and lost
turtle head.
Seeing hats of green,
he remembers.
She
has not strayed.
Her art
reminds him
to be
mutant
excellent.