Found End Words for a Ghazal
a hundred black
debut with black
said about black
Monday, black
two-hour discussion of black
many black
swelling Black
why black
emphasis on black
toward black
on a black
Monday, black
if it was a Black
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NOTE: phrases are from the article "'Love' and Disbelief Follow Donald Trump Meeting With Black Leaders" by Michael Barbaro and John Corrales, New York Times, 11/30/15.
from the Brittle Process series
Jittered Density Plot
At Pere Lachaise, division 94, I paid my respects to Gertrude Stein, her plot the least jittery and least dense what with tiny stones and buttons set atop modest marble. I guess I saw Jim Morrison's—certainly graffiti pointing in his direction. Jitters aside, there was no need, at that moment, to leave a tulip in Victor Noir's hat.
Brittle Process, i.
The red ball is posted. And still you lace up your skates, the dingy scuffed white ones that belonged to Meggie, then me. Next Yoko. After that, maybe Susie. Katie. And down the street, Chrissie. Mary. Patti. Debbi. Sandy. Sandee. Peggy. And up the hill to Lizzie, Bethy, Ellie, Barbie. Kathy and Cathy. Terry. Cindy. Janie. Angie. Jenny. All testing thin ice.
Brittle Process, ii.
Not peanut or pecan. Not the stirring. To be stirred. Which is to say: not able "to resist damage or degrade gracefully," she could not help cracking open processes. Further, there is also a brittle star. The brain, however, is not brittle. I am not. I am not fragile as a father, faint-hearted as a husband.
Recursion
If you are afraid to shake the dice, you will never throw a six. Every Friend Joys in your Success. Happiness is an activity. Cookie says, "You crack me up!" Wisdom in on her way to you.
Damaged Intelligence
I do not see trees, I see pointillism. I do not see three barn windows, I see motifs. I do not see a beach, I see fine texture. Or coarse. I do not see I do not see a hoarder’s home, I see material for collage. Such is the nature of the artist's daughter.
Wormeostat
Around midnight, on the dog's last poo, I point my flashlight toward her poo-spot and squiggling night-crawlers slip into their holes. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. One thing I don’t get: if they have male and female sex organs, why do they need special bristle-like hairs to anchor the mate during penetration. But, I'm not keen on reading up on their anatomy just to get the picture.
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NOTE: the titles are from Cognitive Science Dictionary, University of Alberta http://www.bcp.psych.ualberta.ca/~mike/Pearl_Street/Dictionary/
