Static Mass Emporium


He doesn’t look directly at the sun just clearing
the tree line, gazing instead down at the lake –
directly into the apex of sunlight, blinded in waves.

After supper they hadn’t driven directly home.
The pool hall they went to required him to drive
perpendicular to the quickest route, turning right.

She watched him angle the cue ball off a bumper,
avoiding the eight-ball, and sinking the fifteen –
the three had been aligned perfectly; scratch-proof.

“Is that how I entered your heart, off the side?”

“No,” he smiled, bringing the fifteen back out,
realigning the balls.  Chalking the cue, he whispered,
“You always take the straight shot.”

The cue ball jumped the eight-ball perfectly.  “Crack!”
Again, the fifteen dove into the pocket.  His hand
came up to his chest, covered his heart.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered as she took the cue,
and carelessly sunk the eight in a far pocket; no angles.


Posted at Poetic Aside (even though I’m not doing the PAD… why not?).  The daily prompt was Triangles.


A Matter of Love


several sources on the internet


What is reach?

Is it overcome
or forget
or regret?

How does it smell?

When did he first notice
the far-off look in her gaze?
When and where the stutter
in his heartbeat at night?

Reach is arms
brought to you by love
in the starless morning
wrapped around you
a blanket against
cold unreality.

She pulls you in close
snuffles softly between
your shoulder blades
before you reach
the next state of unconsciousness.

This is reach.

Troiku — Night Fire


Fire dances at night
crisp air brings out other ghosts
wisps across the moon

Fire dances at night
we hold our sticks to the flames
careful not to burn

Crisp air brings out other ghosts
stories told at night
relived in our dreams

Wisps across the moon
swerving of a hunting bat
adds to the night’s chill


This was written in response to Frank J. Tassone’s Haikai Challenge #5.  The challenge word is Hallowe’en.  While technically not one of the ancient and accepted Japanese forms (at least in its totality), the Troiku feeds off the first “stanza,” a traditional Haiku.

Back in 2012 (or 13?) Chèvrefeuille, the host of Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, introduced the form he called, Troiku.  Follow the link for more information on this form.  It’s an interesting twist on an ancient and revered poetry form.  It’s also a lot of fun!

Masque of the Red Pencil Death



The masquerade party commences.

“Another day in paradise!” quotes
the first floor clerk as he shuffles
toward his glassed-in office, he wears
the old man persona from his toes

The science teacher smiles
as I stride by – I want to comment
on how the smile was a nice touch;
no one will recognize her wearing one.

The custodian who has lived
here twenty-five years, having come
from Colombia as a teenager, forgot
his costume, never remembers his mask.

The party, strangely, happens
in separate rooms, and the costumes
are worn largely for students; not
really much mingling in this menagerie.

As I seek the door, partied out, dragging
my mask behind me, the clerk grumbles
as I pass him, “Another day, another….”

I recall, much too late, why I wear a mask.


Written for dVerse Poets Pub.

Renga Challenge — Maserati (Charley/qbit)

Neptune 3


Neptune is demanding back royalties;
Wants a comped Maserati GranTurismo

Rome burns with news of the deal
The other Gods inflamed with jealousy

They have a pyro-manic-depressive emperor,
Goes from Nero to Legion at the drop of a toga

It’s all maximum circus now,
Romulus pulls a knife on Remus

You know how cubs can be; wolfing-
down competition in the mything world

Drunk and stumbling down the Appian way
Zeus:  “By Jove, I was a Greek God when I was young!”

While Ares is reading a book on Mars
Jupiter’s fowling up the human’s bars

Gods, men and boys,
Tridents of wantonness and toys

Neptune’s drop-top impresses no Nereids;
Arethusa isn’t seeking a Poseidon adventure.

Water Virgins and Juno lawyered up
Another Archaic Triad bites the dust


qbit has taken up the challenge!  We are doing a collaborative Renga; alternating couplets.  Gods know where we’ll end up.  Fasten seat belts!

Yep!  I called it!  This was a wild, top-down ride, roam’n along the Appian Way (way!).  It’s a land of allusions….  How could it not be?

Shared on dVerse Poet Pubs Open Link.

Renga Challenge — Maserati


Neptune is demanding back royalties

and a comped Maserati GranTurismo


This is a Couplet Renga Challenge for October Casting Bricks.  Care to join in?  Just let me know in a comment below and I will start a post for us.  I propose a total of 10 couplets; 5 each.  Everyone is welcome to give this a go or to stop by Jilly’s October Challenge and join in with any of the Collaborative Challenges.  Presenting a challenge of your own would be awesome, as well.  The more, the merrier!  (Yes, I stole this word-for-word from Jilly’s blog!)

Sans Paddle


Into the lounge he shuffles,
feet never leaving the floor.

If they’d turn the music down
you’d be able to hear his joints.

You’ve seen his kind before –
shirt open to here, honest-to-god
gold chain – looking for a target.

Even his pick-up lines creak.


It’s another Quadrille Night at dVerse Poets Pub.  Forty-Four words (just like the epitath for the Old West gunslinger: “Here lies Lester Moore, Four slugs from a .44, No Les No More”) is what’s required.  And the magic word tonight is, “Creak.” 

All Blues


CBS Boston

On a commuter train –
Track 4 – kind of blue, living in
the rhythm of wheels on the rails,
the muted horn at the crossings.

Heading into the city for the night;
got no money but so what?  I’m going
miles from our last conversation.

The train soothes my angry
nerves.  Thinking back to a ride,
years ago, I took on the Wabash run.

Ate at Eugenia’s, where we met.

You picked up the bill as the pianist
played Blue In Green.

The rhythm soothes my jagged
nerves.  A bebop run soars in my head.

I’ll call when I arrive.