Apple Air

An American sentence for Sarah’s prompt at dVerse – waiting and anticipiation.  An American sentence is exactly 17 syllables and is a complete sentence. It was created by Allen Ginsberg because he couldn’t follow the rules for classic haiku.

Apple Air
“Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Waiting for the lovely tokens of autumn and the rich smell of apples.



The Duck Press

The Duck Press
“Maybe that’s enlightenment enough: to know that there is no final resting place of the mind, no moment of smug clarity. ”  Anthony Bourdain

Memories. I read today that his belongings are being auctioned off online. His artwork, his furniture, his kitchen paraphernalia, including his famous duck press. I will log on and see what I can afford and buy something.
Maybe even that duck press. I sit up in my tree, clutching my violin and letting the tears slide down my face. After all of this, they are selling his stuff. I close my eyes and remember. I begin to play my violin, weeping the whole time. After awhile, I climb down and leave. These memories were left here with the trees.


Sticky Ribs

An out of standard response to Izy’s Out of Standard Prompt – Living in a Fallout Shelter.  We had a fallout shelter when I was growing up.  It was a selling feature and was designed to house comfortably, six people.  By the time the house had sold when I was an adult, it had become a storage facility for apples and taters, canned foods, a groovy place to go and smoke dope.  An American sentence – complete sentence with exactly 17 syllables.  Created by Allen Ginsberg because for some reason, he couldn’t follow the rules for classic haiku.

Sticky Ribs
“I just love Chinese food. My favourite dish is number 27.”  Clement Attlee

One year alone in a shelter, I miss Chinese sticky  ribs the most.


Chinese red ribs

Nowhere to go

Nowhere to go
“Like a car idling, I gave of my energy until there was nothing more in my tank to give… all the while going nowhere.” ― Kate McGahan

I got myself all dressed up for you.
You never showed.
So I am going to undress and go to bed
with my teddy bear and the moon.

Jewel Box

Jewel Box

“Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.” Matsuo Basho

my mind was turning over the loss
of you as if the loss were an object
in my hand, holding this way and that –
sitting watching the harvest moon
huge in the night sky –
sorting and sifting the way
I used to pick through my grandmother’s
jewel box, looking for the perfect piece
to sparkle on my childish breast.
but the box is empty now.
nothing but dust within.

harvest moon 9/13/2019

Like, Wow man

For Marian’s prompt at Real Toads…One Word – Groovy


Like, Wow man
“Woodstock was both a peaceful protest and a global celebration.” Richie Havens

I vaguely remember standing in the mud,
stoned out of my mind rocking to Jimi Hendrix
rocking out on Star Spangled Banner.
I turned to my cousin Billy and we both smiled.
Groovy man.
Until that damned brown acid hit.


****an announcement was made at Woodstock to avoid the brown acid. It’s a bad trip man.  My cousin Billy who had hitched a ride with me looked me and at we went, oh shit.  We had both bought some.  LOL

For John Wick

For Sanaa’s Wild Friday Prompt – finish a Sappho Poem

For John Wick
“You want a war, or you want to just give me a gun?” John Wick to the Bowery King

In my eyes he matches the gods
In my eyes he matches the gods, that man who
sits there facing you–any man whatever–
listening from close by to the sweetness of your
voice as you talk, the

sweetness of your laughter: yes, that–I swear it–
sets the heart to shaking inside my breast, since
once I look at you for a moment, I can’t
speak any longer,

but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once a
subtle fire races inside my skin, my
eyes can’t see a thing and a whirring whistle
thrums at my hearing,

cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes
a hold of me all over: I’m greener than the
grass is and appear to myself to be little
short of dying.

But all must be endured, since even a poor
assassin such as I.
Watching you glide through the Continental Hotel
I envy those who have gone up against you,
especially those that have not survived.
It is glory to die beneath your hand
but even more,
it is glory to be pressed against you,
to be stroked like your dog
whom you love above all.
I load my gun,
I sharpen my sword.
I am ready to die now beneath your glance.

Previous Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: