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Month: January 2017

Shakshuka at Mimi’s

You can eat Shakshuka
at breakfast for its eggs
or lunch for tomato stew
and dinner for all of it
and nobody will care.

Nobody will tell you
you’re silly for eating
that at dinner or so early
because it can be eaten
any damn time of the day.

So eat your Shakshuka
and don’t ask whether
it would be better earlier
or later because it’s just
perfect as it is. Dammit.

* A restaurant in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn with the BEST Shakshuka (Middle Eastern dish).

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The Life Sentence

In the waiting room the man
nearly whizzed in his pants
waiting for “x months” to live.

The doctor arrived to nod
clear his throat and pull a
screeching chair to a halt.

You have the most peculiar
disorder ever found. In fact
incidents are most rare.

You are in amazingly good
health and we fully expect
you to live well for decades.

Decades beyond normal
human life expectancy.
What a fortunate man!

The man then began to
tremble and cry. The doctor
asked him what was wrong.

So what am I to do with all
the time? Already I don’t know
what to do with myself.

The doctor assured him he
could do just about anything
for the next thirty years at least.

The man remained distraught
so before he left he received
a bottle of anti-depressants.

He limped past those waiting to
come in who only became more
anxious to hear the bad news.

 

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Poet’s Notes:

Written recently, but the draft has not been located (it’s in my place somewhere).

If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment (further) below.

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Nancy Blue

Her eyes are shades
for the blue in her mind
(of a light crystal hue)
shaping, sharpening.

Not the blue you find
in a pool disinfected
or blue overwhelmed
by an ocean’s depths.

Her mind swims in blue
that clarifies, enhances
and never just reduces.
It is a blue undiluted.

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Poet’s Notes:

Written recently, but the draft has not been located (it’s in my place somewhere).

If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment (further) below.

 

 

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Writing Poetry

It is madness if you think of it
to sit and let in swirling
tidal waters held suspended
by some invisible wall and
loosened so the whole discarded
mess old sneakers and needles
and building materials and love
and suicide notes rushes in
so that if you’re lucky or
both fortunate and blessed
to end up on your ass
you find things poking out
of every pocket that make
mysterious claims.

NOTE: Revised on 1/15/2017

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PREVIOUS VERSION:

It is madness when you think of it.
To sit and let it all in. The rushing
tidal waters held suspended by
some invisible fence and let loose
so the whole discarded mess
old sneakers and needles and
building materials and love
and suicide notes (that you
never recognize as your own)
blasts in so that if you’re lucky
or perhaps both fortunate and
blessed to end up on your ass
you find things emerge from
every pocket that offer
themselves as gifts never
to be rightly requited.

####

Poet’s Notes:

Written recently, but the draft has not been located (it’s in my place somewhere).

If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment (further) below.

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