8-word poem

When words
Fail us
There's always
Handheld weaponry.

8-word poem

Will we
Ever
Be able
To scream
Again?

15 REASONS TO BECOME A PAINTER

Still life with guillotine
Still life with Listerine
Still life with latrine
Still life with Martin Sheen
Still life with praline
Still life with Aberdeen
Still life with Ovaltine
Still life with mezzanine
Still life with Moe Green
Still life with James Dean
Still life with Mr. Clean
Still life with Ballanchine
Still life with aquamarine
Still life with Visine
Still life with missing scene

8-word poem

Life:
Another thing
I have to
Live with.

8-word poem

Realization:
Candlelight
Christmas services
Give me
The creeps.

8-word poem

The First Noel
Should have been
The last.

8-word poem

This too
Shall pass—
Just like
Last time.

8-word poem

The heart is
A funny thing.
Ha ha.

8-word poem

How long
Do I have
To fix this?

8-word poem

End
Of the day
And it's only
Blogging.

8-word poem

I should've
Availed myself of
The Creole interpreter.

8-word poem

There's no chance
It was just
By chance.

8-word poem

Hooray!
It hasn't ended;
Yikes!
It hasn't started.

iTuneage - recent baker's dozen

1. "Living in the Real World" - Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes
2. "Move Over Ms. L" - Keith Moon
3. "Avenging Annie" - Roger Daltrey
4. "(What A) Wonderful World" - Art Garfunkel
5. "Someday, Someway" - Robert Gordon
6. "Everybody's Gonna Be Happy" - The Kinks
7. "Heroin" - The Velvet Underground
8. "Marquee Moon" - Television
9. "Achilles Last Stand" - Led Zeppelin
10. "Gimmie That Rock 'N' Roll" - John Entwistle
11. "When Your Mind's Made Up" - Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova
12. "Jockey Full of Bourbon" - Tom Waits
13. "Charley's Girl" - Lou Reed

There's A New Blog In Town

i peed a little.

8-word poem

If you
Ever started
A cult
I'd join.

8-word poem: THE LIZA MINELLI STORY

Oh Liza
We're indifferent
Toward you
Get up.

8-word poem: THE MICHAEL VICK STORY

I will
Go to jail.
Directly
To jail.

REVEALED

Reading books printed on better quality
paper, knowing people with straighter
backbones: these are the difference makers;

the deal breakers are those quaint notions
of fairness and clarity. Avoid like plague.
Fifty pages in and it’s not that there isn’t

a narrative to speak of, there’s no ink on
the pages to make letters that form words
that create meaning and suggest a plot.

His old librarian said it best by saying it
plainly: “We have some very nice new
books.” And his heart cracked pityingly

for her and the way she smiled at him,
with her pock marks and saliva playing
major roles. She clearly having forgotten

beating him some years earlier. Who
knows? Maybe it never happened. Keep
rearranging the ticket stubs, even the ones

you pick up off the floor; there is a story
in there and it doesn’t require decoding
in the strict sense. The titles, show times,

sometimes there’s a row number and a
seat number: it will become painfully
obvious when it all snaps into focus and

once you stop feeling foolish for having
missed it in the first place. Repeat it all
back to me slowly so I know that you

understand. In this way, life is revealed.

8-word poem

All the heartaches
Laid end-to-end
Would reach
Heaven.

RECENT LOVE SONG FOR A NEW HOPE IN THE PRESENT MILLENNIUM

I'll never stop thinking how we could
be kings if only we could rid ourselves
of this church basement smell

The water is cold and deep in the middle
where once I saw rushes and you a dead
dark horse out on the tiles

Wishing I'd been born on the bayou if
only for the patois and to be a paid up
member of the damned

Put a shine down lemon good and get the
word out that imagining failure is only
the limit of our world

I heard the worst radio had to offer in
your eyes and I'm here to tell you our
love is deeper than that

Still needing to get myself ready for
Sunday because I keep remembering how
I forget to ask for help

Slipshod Sonnet #9

waiting to sell lottery tickets to those who have little
use for numerals with the anthem on infinite loop and the
headphone jack broken people taking great care with grand
gestures of elegance but think little of rubbing your nose
in their lunch I could forge captain's bars with all the
wedding rings I've thrown away letting leadership know how
little it is valued the pride the accomplishment oh really
they tell of a place where those things all work out and
you forever realize your potential it's called way the hell
over there a slice on wax paper with heavy cutlery tough
going particularly with such a warp to the table top writing
this blind gives me hope I will be able to read it in better
light soft music hard truths the only thing more questionable
than the small town pizza place is the small town Chinese place

SOME PEOPLE CALLED HIM MAURICE

Anyone who cares about hockey (okay, that's you and you) should skate, not walk, to see The Rocket: The Maurice Richard Story.

The Rocket is a wonderfully entertaining and informative biopic shot in gorgeous sepia-toned splendor, fully evoking hockey of the 40s and 50s. The old-style jerseys (literally "sweaters," in those days), the uncurved stick blades, the pomaded hair styles - it's all faithfully rendered. As is the notion that hockey has always been (and probably always will be) a fringe sport adored by a fervent minority.

And who knew French Canadians were so reviled in Canada? I must've dozed off during the pertinent didactic passages of Ken Dryden's The Game.

I could quibble with the few details omitted - Richard's landmark 50 goals in 50 games; the man's maniacal visage as he bore down on the opposing goaltender (see above) - by why? This is easily the second best hockey film of all time (nothing will ever unseat Slapshot for top honors).

Former NHL star Mike Ricci gets significant screen time as Richard's Montreal Canadiens teammate Elmer Lach, and current New York Ranger Sean Avery does a convincing turn as a Boston Bruins goon. Though I didn't spy him, Vincent Lecavalier - 2006-2007 winner of the NHL's Rocket Richard Trophy for most goals scored during the regular season (52) - is credited as portraying Montreal legend Jean Beliveau.

HE

He was a quiet man
He made plans
He struck deals with the devil
He sat in coffee houses
He spent time on crack
He passed the same bagel place daily
He wondered what it all meant
He cared too little for too few
He wanted to stop but couldn't
He watched it all come down
He thought he heard a ping
He realized whose shit was stinking
He tossed it all away
He threw it all away again
He kept throwing it all away
He picked up the pieces
He laid down and died
He keeled over
He dropped dead
He couldn’t sing but loved to
He knew the words by heart

8-word poem

I have learned
This
Is not
The case.

8-word poem

Don't discount
The transformative
Power
Of the streets.

8-word poem

The writing
On the wall
In India ink.