Poop-Saver (savor?, savior?)

Playing @ Praying?

Tayololoye’s Blog A Treat

just below is a post – a poem of wrenched yet hopeful heart – and it brought back to me something I see and hear and smell and hope and recriminate each and every day, and find a joy in that hopeless hope so craftily and honestly written by Lola, whose name I will go back to learn, but thought getting this out of far more import.  And the haiku, tanka and such will just have to sit back on the porch a bit whilst I wax.

“Penciled Page”

I scrawl these quick words

beside a niece’s perhaps

very first fast horse!

“A Tale (oops, watch the spelling!) Of Two Women”

Woman One tells me

(because her then-alive husband was

Army (oxymoron alert!) intelligence,

Belgium has no known border with a

fiction called Luxembourg.

 

Woman Two tells me

no, no never, not even ever

will a white periwinkle plant

throw pink or purple

flowers – they be separate species!

(like girrafes or gyraffes?)

She was not amused.

MA (English) ‘professor’

at the Orlando Junior College, adjunct

it later out-turns

who tooled ’round Snaffurd

on her pale blue Vespa and never

again looked left as I sat near my

white and purple posies from the same stems

reading somedamnbookorother.

 

Both, of course, were and I suspect still

are ‘corporate mad as March hares

(with due apologies to rabbits everywhere.)

 

“HaikuCouch”

shrink-wrapped sentence scenes

first in pen on old notebook,

then its ether-ized

:

 

“In Response To Daniel Schnee’s Piece ‘An Introduction To Robert Okaji'”

my skinless knuckles

know my work and my cussing –

often regret both!

“Can You Smell This?” Tanka 144

Dead artists and dead

writers, dead politicos

all stink unburied,

except writers and painters

do so only while alive!

“Can You Smell This?”

Dead artists and dead

writers, dead politicos

all stink unburied