A piece of Tanka Prose supine form in bed motionless, but for deep breaths eyelids flutter rapidly unmade choices lived again blank stare up at white ceiling I don’t take care of myself very well. My sleep schedule is ridiculously inconsistent; some nights I only sleep three hours; other nights, I may sleep for ten.… Continue reading Blank stare, or: Unmade choices
A haibun My daily schedule has changed quite a bit since I began my new job. Whereas I once had a lot of flexibility, I now have to put in 8 hours at the office daily. I can no longer drop my daughter off and pick her up from school on the same day. Also,… Continue reading June, or: Jeune
A piece of Tanka Prose stoic behind wheel multiple backseat drivers steel sky glints at dawn desert summer sears highways air conditioning cools heads This week, both yesterday and tomorrow, I am on site visits for work; and I am the designated driver. Yesterday's site visits were wonderful. It's inspirational to see some of the… Continue reading Steel sky, or: Desert summers
My 1st Constanza This is not a poem as such... I'm writing these lines off the cuff and tipsy off the stronger stuff. I simply can't be bothered much when my head is heavy and tired... when I'm so bloody uninspired... As my fingers firm table clutch, I realize I might collapse; my concentration's long… Continue reading Under control, or: Under advisement
Poetry Partners #20 'Fog', a poem by Steven S. Wallace of 'There is no Stigmata' Enveloping white Fog covers the highway soft Beyond and unknown. Mist creeping along Like a man in an alley Lighting a cigarette. Wafting from the west As a persistent rumor Travels through a crowd. Shrouding the beyond This inscrutable ghost… Continue reading Foggy, or: Clouded mind
My 2nd Lai My engines are fired up, as is required for flight. Coffee has me wired, but nothing's transpired tonight. Though I feel inspired, my brain's much too tired to write. I dream of heartaches, of mountains, of lakes, still, vast. Then, morning, I wake; it's come time to make breakfast. Oh, for goodness… Continue reading No bed, or: Roses
An American sentence: Versing exhausts my mind faster than it does all possibilities. 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 First, or: Foremost
An American sentence My mind loves syllabifying my brain's gripes about our late bedtime. 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… Continue reading Age, or: Refusal
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
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