Thursday, May 26, 2011

Happy Birthday!

No it not my birthday, but a co-worker's. I often write rhyming verse inside co-worker's birthday cards. It's fun for me. So this is for everyone...for your special day.

Fireflies awaken
Magic your day
Leaves wave wind
Your day at play.
Chamomile sighs
End of day, sleepy eyes
Drifting drifting sleep
Your day to keep.

Happy Birthday!

Denis Streeter 5/26/11

Sunday, May 22, 2011

lassoes of whiskey sprouting

seventeen spells of easter
over the flying zone
i didnt do nothing wrong
just didnt get travelling right
overhead i saw the zone
clear as a clockwork sky
battery acid trip
out of counters out of space
where the blades go out for dinner
rocking in their wake
their usefulness spent
the washtubs dry
camels in the furnace
daniel at the y
tmi doing the preaching
lesser than one son away
afterwards there was nothing left
just a checkstand or two
a few fountains overflowing
rabbits in the bin
chicken out the stew
water trickling over
the news stains of night
eyeballing washtubs full of innuendo
and the rocks cracked where the roads met
pigging up iron rolling like steam
there was nothing in their removal
except for me, except for me
spaceships ask why
punctuation litters the sky
sauntering sideways leaning on the bricks of the exchange
washing swimming pools dry
missing the casual hi
as boats boad disaster
angels speak the holy ghost
and hint makers take odds
bringing the steam together tying up trucks
there wasnt much of a beating
just two or three and the lettuce
no rest, supplies are long long gone
its just an expression of my impression
wandering fields wondering where to land
as the fights came fishing sideways
never before noon with the kickstands
setting houses on fire
picking nostrils of their mind
bringing up the damage
in pails of water
washing buffoons slip bananas
looking for ordinary language when
complex dont flow
upstream downstream my naughty dream
the doors were left open
there were lassoes present
into the shade where the grasshoppers lie
clear winter moonshine sensitized gums
bristle with mud and lake forest streams
toads croak the rocks dreaming
and the chair receding
holing up for the night
just receiving
as the wine grew hot and the ground grew cold
lassoes of whiskey pouting
its time for bed
spine tingled covers rope the night
as the sky walked out.

denis streeter 8/8/10

Friday, May 20, 2011

Intuitive

This little intuitive piece seemed to fit perfectly on a smooth 3x5 illustration board sample at the book store.

Orange orange yellow
Into the bees of trees
Awaiting clipping
Knees escort in sandals
Brushing orange yellow tongues
Into the sandscape blues
Wandering tidelands
To escape fresh air
While the dwindles diminished
Lights out purple blue
All awash as the kindling grew
Just for you. Just for you.
Orange yellow
Blue.

Denis Streeter 5/20/11

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Beard to Bald: 3 months later

I started the bald to beard experiment 1:30 PM Sunday February 6th...over three months ago. No more bald to beard. It's beard to bald. I never got used to the itchiness. I'm heading up on 50 on June 30th...hmmm...half way through a century...half way through a year. I shaved just below my ears and left the round area under my nose, lower lip and chin. Don't know what to think of it yet...looks weird to me. I think I'll shave the whole thing off and shave my head on my 50th birthday. What do you think? Any votes on that?

Monday, May 9, 2011

Two

These are two poems I read tonight at Ravenna's Casa d'Italia. Afterwards I was told by a poet I respect, how he likes it better when I read my own works. This is no H.E. Bates, but perhaps it is more the essense of me...that he and others seemed to deeply appreciate.

Middle of the night

The middle of the night woke me up
Tapped on my shoulder
I turned, rolled restless
Awake, like the
Middle of the night god
Displaced my shoulder
Leaving me with my dark gods
Spurning sleep
Into some sort of readiness
I could not understand or judge
Awake my toss and turn journey
Recreating reality known and unknown
Sleep comes, morning wakes
Tapped out
Tapped in.

Denis Streeter 9/19/10


Untitled

I saw you from the outside
I looked inside
To see what I saw
Outside matching inside
See what I love
You call me judgmental
I am.
Experiencing life as I have
Is a delayed process
Down my rabbit hole
Sorted next minute, hour, day, month, years...
After it is no longer an issue for anyone else
Discarded like some used tissue
"Been there, done that"
Already processed and moving on
"Next!"
I saw you from the outside
I looked inside
I wasn't ready yet.

Denis Streeter 5/4/11