A 'Sestina' it had been a good run, but, resigned, he now set his shoulders, ready to take the fall for her; a final stand; sighing, he took his turn and let the chips fall through the window, he watched the leaves fall over the meadow; no place to run; nowhere to turn; nothing for… Continue reading Down the river, or: The fall
A 'Septolet' click for full size A POW says: “Glory to Ukraine.” Russians riddle him with bullets, videotaping his murder. Septolet? The Septolet is a poem consisting of seven lines containing fourteen words with a break anywhere in between the two parts. Both parts deal with the same thought and create a picture.
A 'Septolet' A Russian missile strike murders 45 Ukrainian civilians. Feeling useless and despondent, I verse. Septolet? The Septolet is a poem consisting of seven lines containing fourteen words with a break anywhere in between the two parts. Both parts deal with the same thought and create a picture.
A 'Septolet' Ukrainians restore utilities and clear landmines. Ukrainians investigate hundreds of war crimes in Kherson. Septolet? The Septolet is a poem consisting of seven lines containing fourteen words with a break anywhere in between the two parts. Both parts deal with the same thought and create a picture.
An American sentence: Hands bloodied, I grin. Killing mosquitoes brings me cold satisfaction. What's an 'American Sentence'? Allen Ginsberg, inventor of the American Sentence, felt that the haiku didn’t work as well in English. Ginsberg decided to remove the line structure of the haiku, maintaining the requirement of 17 syllables total. He felt that removing… Continue reading On my hands, or: In cold blood
A 'Septolet' I reread it again. Russian soldiers raped a one-year-old with a candlestick, murdering him. Septolet? The Septolet is a poem consisting of seven lines containing fourteen words with a break anywhere in between the two parts. Both parts deal with the same thought and create a picture.
A 'Drabble' "Who's the kid, Julius?" "That's Aldo, Boss. He worked for Marcus 'til his joint got shot up. His cocktails are the best around." "That so? Hey, kid - what's your specialty?" Bashfully, the little barkeep adjusted his spectacles. "Well, Sir, I've been working on something…" "Ok, Albert. Why doncha make me one? Maybe… Continue reading The barkeep removed his spectacles
The people's outcry at Robison's murder had been unexpected. Who'd known that the damned gadfly had been so beloved?! Weren't talk show hosts merely a dime a dozen? Lord Greer frowned as he recalled his nighttime flight to the inglorious, concealed bunker, deep in the forest. He had been in hiding for weeks. Suddenly, Greer's… Continue reading The inglorious, concealed bunker
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
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