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(no subject)
Apr. 20th, 2009 11:24 pma poem is a finger, pointing
there, you see, there
into the mirror and
demanding an explanation.
there, you see, there
into the mirror and
demanding an explanation.
(no subject)
Jul. 25th, 2008 07:46 pmI may have accidentally created a new poetry form today, based on the concept of chiasmus inversus, or the inversion of parallel phrase elements. It was also inspired by a guy I saw sneaking around his neighbor's house.
The basic idea is that you repeat the line, but flip the halves, so that you have two different end rhymes in a 4 line stanza (forgive me, it has been a decade since I knew the proper poetic terminology). Here is my quick and dirty example.
Not a great work, but I am excited about using chiasmus inversus for repeating lines.
The basic idea is that you repeat the line, but flip the halves, so that you have two different end rhymes in a 4 line stanza (forgive me, it has been a decade since I knew the proper poetic terminology). Here is my quick and dirty example.
I pee in your pool when you are not home.
Everyone around here is a fool,
and as they say, "When in Rome..."
When you are not home, I pee in your pool.
Not a great work, but I am excited about using chiasmus inversus for repeating lines.
as I laid you
in a cradle of clay
still soft
as she stroked your fur
I covered you in stones
She covers you in flowers
Daily Doggerel
May. 8th, 2007 10:52 pmI'm tired of living in Tom Wait's dreams,
waking up to thrift-store coffee and I.O.U. soup.
My dad never killed that fatted cow.
When my ship came in, it was a Jersey scow.
© mckenzee 2007
The Daily Doggerel
Apr. 5th, 2007 12:05 amon poetry.
We won't get where we're going, but
we're keeping excellent time.
© mckenzee 2007
The Daily Doggerel
Mar. 20th, 2007 07:38 pmI
Bent and rusted license plate
shaped and set
atop a fence post.
II
Mud and straw
a basket baked
in a thorn tree
III
A hollow gourd
a hole knocked in
hung from the stem
IV
A child's dollhouse
tacked to the shed wall
unfurnished
V
Another gourd
another hole
another stem
VI
Someone nailed
an old leather shoe
to a telephone pole
VII
A pair of bee-eaters
hopping in and out of
buffalo skull sockets
VIII
This gourd
is lying on the ground
filled with finch
IX
Red string and yellow string and blue string and green string
the social-weavers have taken it
upon themselves
© mckenzee 2007
drinking black coffee in a white room
waiting
why do the couches always feel like this
waiting
please, don't cough on me
don't sit over here
don't talk
waiting
this is the worst coffee ever
worse than that gas station
i wonder how long those mints have been there
does anybody ever eat those mints
they look more like lints
no, not over here
sit closer to the bathroom
where you can see the tv
i'm planning to read that magazine
next, don't take it
she's taking a mint
i can't believe it
she took my magazine
and a lintmint
what is that in the bottom of my cup
coffee dirt
coffee earth
coffee grounds
coffee mud puddle in my cup
i can see my future
waiting
drinking coffee in a white room
i should have sat closer to the restroom
i think that tree is fake
© mckenzee 2007
x-posted to
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dailydoggerel, feel free to join me there.
The rockets are beside the point.
Life under other stars
is life;
cinnamon on the wind,
a blue jay in a pine tree
on a red planet.
Martian magical realism.
© mckenzee 2007
Daily Doggerel
Mar. 11th, 2007 08:01 pmFifty three percent of scouts
report a barren plane,
prone to floods,
filled with the tantalizing aroma of food.
Thirty six percent of scouts
carry all they can obtain,
overloaded,
a river of sisters neatly queued.
Eleven percent of scouts,
awaited in vain,
never return.
We may never know what has ensued.
© mckenzee 2007
the daily doggerel
Mar. 4th, 2007 07:14 pm( from the Latin: to regret)
When that which has been covered over
rises to the surface,
obscuring what has come after.
Second thoughts,
the past muddling the present.
I called her by your name today.
© mckenzee 2007
the daily doggerel
Mar. 4th, 2007 01:20 amCounting coins for coffee
dropping them on the floor
a penny
occludes
a dime.
© mckenzee 2007
the daily doggerel
Mar. 2nd, 2007 09:56 pmI dip a finger
touch my tongue
and pronounce it
easter eggs
kosher dill
and a spotless mirror.
© mckenzee 2007
The inspiration
I like that the last line refers both to the fact that vinegar is an excellent household cleaner and that in the original image, the reaction to the taste of vinegar reveals the true nature of the taster.
Under your duvet
we grew muffled, speaking
with the tongues of tulips
a white duck in the small canal
beneath the bedroom window
then the bathroom window
then the kitchen...
and we rolled cigarettes,
walked barefoot on gravel
and completely misunderstood
the tongue of tulips.
we grew muffled, speaking
with the tongues of tulips
a white duck in the small canal
beneath the bedroom window
then the bathroom window
then the kitchen...
and we rolled cigarettes,
walked barefoot on gravel
and completely misunderstood
the tongue of tulips.
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thenowhereFunny thing is, stretching skin doesn’t hurt that much, starting out, going slow.
But cutting? Weird.
Cutting, starting out, going slow, the razor gliding softly against the skin;
It itches.
It’s odd, that itch.
You would expect pain and eventually that will come.
But this soft caress, the susurration of the steel through the tiny hills and valleys of your flesh, why would that itch?
But cutting? Weird.
Cutting, starting out, going slow, the razor gliding softly against the skin;
It itches.
It’s odd, that itch.
You would expect pain and eventually that will come.
But this soft caress, the susurration of the steel through the tiny hills and valleys of your flesh, why would that itch?
Micronesia, 1944
Mar. 15th, 2004 08:19 pmWomen holding babes
as the old robes
placed food in the cave.
Sneaking through the trees
we three boys
spy on the Japanese.
So much food
no soldiers
and we were hungry.
Smoke swirled as
four tall hats
arranged the offering.
Crying to heaven
frightening the babies
frightening three boys,
the robes surged
driving the women
over the cliff,
into the waves,
babes still clinging
to their gods.
We waited,
then we ate.
Our gods lived in our bellies.
as the old robes
placed food in the cave.
Sneaking through the trees
we three boys
spy on the Japanese.
So much food
no soldiers
and we were hungry.
Smoke swirled as
four tall hats
arranged the offering.
Crying to heaven
frightening the babies
frightening three boys,
the robes surged
driving the women
over the cliff,
into the waves,
babes still clinging
to their gods.
We waited,
then we ate.
Our gods lived in our bellies.
