Fresh Words


I use this page to post a variety of pieces, both those just out of the sluice, and older pieces that feel fresh to me at the moment. I generally keep them up for a month, or a few at the most.

Look for new poems (and more) at the start of each month.

The Sun Comes Up (bonus round)   (new in January)

Gunshot Haiku   (new in December)

Written to the Delbert Bump Trio playing “More of Les McCann” at the 12th Annual Davis Jazz Beat Festival,John Natsoulas Gallery, Davis CA, October 12, 2019  (new in December)

Written to the Delbert Bump Trio playing at the 12th Annual Davis Jazz Beat Festival, John Natsoulas Gallery, Davis CA, October 12, 2019  (new in December).

Be a Bough Tit   (new in September)

Do Let’s   (new in September)

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Here’s an extra flash prose piece that didn’t make it to the Home Page.

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The sun comes up and everything ends. Everything begins. Both at once and in-between. Everything is in-between and always has been. There’s your heartbeat, there’s your heartbeat, and you’re there the whole time, cleaning the kitchen, getting those plants to grow, making an egg. Neural flashes building your world as quickly as they tear it down, like an old flicker film, a flip book of your life. In between breaths you sit by a stream in the woods and for a moment everything is silent, no birds, no rustling breeze, no falling twig. Silence – until the stream breaks in, goes from off to on, delicious, and it’s been there all along. But have you? Where are you now, in that room, in that car, under the sky? There’s a breath, there’s a breath, you come in and out, you end and begin, here’s the stream, here’s the sky, here’s the still-familiar world, here’s a rose, here’s the ground, here you are.

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As darkness settles in on the year, a dark haiku (okay, a reverse senryu) leaks out, pausing a moment for those lost these twelve months.

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     GUNSHOT HAIKU

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Gunshots in the city night

shock me from my sleep,

my brain on auto-prayer.

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Wrote a bunch of pomes back in October at the Davis Jazz Beat Festival, listening my ass off. Just getting around to typing them up. Here are a couple, both written to Delbert Frickin Bump.

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Written to the Delbert Bump Trio playing “More of Les McCann”
at the 12th Annual Davis Jazz Beat Festival,John Natsoulas Gallery,
Davis CA, October 12, 2019

Man you hit those keys with such delight
I can barely hold my own in a nearby chair

Life to you ecstatic whitehair
has to be the bomb the dive
the juice
up in the air
around the moon
shaken to the bone
every second moving
to the next
violet

C’mon
what a bang
what a
skinny-legged
drummer man
snaring those bees
thumping those knees
to cymbal breeze
C’mon
c’mon and
tap it whole
& if you sneeze
you roll

Slide neck slide
a kindly ride
to next year’s trill
fret-puncher
fly glider
neck slider what a
wrist what a
sly glissade

Hit them keys
whatever twist
whatever shift
whatever rift
flies
hey!

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Written to the Delbert Bump Trio playing at the 12th Annual Davis Jazz Beat Festival, John Natsoulas Gallery, Davis CA, October 12, 2019

Whirlwinding
big grinning
sun rending
sky sending
im-pending
wild wending
zoot kindling
vive swinging
mind bending
vim winging

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Woke up the other morning and this sweet poem came out of my head, written for Alexandra Naughton of Be About It Press.

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BE A BOUGH TIT

Because you can.
Because you are a creature of air.
Because your song fills the corners with life.
Because the corners could always use more life.
Because that breeze is meant for you.
Because you come with the scent of pine.
Because you come with the colors of spring.
Because you burst into berries.
Because the vicious gnats fear you.
Because you chirp upon the dawn.
Because you soar into the noontide sun.
Because you sing the day farewell.
Because you send us sweetly to our nightly nests.
Because you are.

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A short but cute one from a couple years ago that I just found in a folder.

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Do Let’s

How can we be when all the being’s done for us?
How can we do when all the doing’s denied?
Arms in the air, running full tilt toward.
Fuck the ideologies. Let’s have a world.

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