opening to real

dropping that corner
that manner of display
hoping you're seen
that way
that unknown fold of love
dropping in your corner
that feeling of understanding
your guard dropped
vulnerable
is what love feels like
tingling and wonderful too
denial
is what love feels like
wanting to know everything
wondering the unsaid
is it reciprocated
everything drops
punctuation
capitals
what becomes important
is a fresh frontier
unknown and worth exploring
but oh
the vulnerability
that manner of display
that way
that unknown fold of love
opening to real

denis streeter  10/29/12

Deposit central

The sands are moving
Smoother than sin
Under the ocean's unruffled blouse
Just sinking in
And the cowbells are singing
Animated as pie
Landlord of the fly
Strange as advice
That lonely goodbye
Bedford cheats and lonely cries
The crabs underfoot
Trimming my nails
Nihilist ails
As the trunks sweep my winter swim
Nothing out, nothing in
Just a few crabs crackin on by
Washing aboard some slippery pine
The elm left behind
The shedded boots
And the long tire rack
Mounted to boots
Under the ignition switch
Where nothing is stable
Sipping wine under the hollies
The holies bled in confessionals
And the teeter tightened the totter
Nothing more to express
Laughter under the bust
Public transportation
Cryptic when hand washing
Changing from sense to dollars to dimes
Opening up into steam, that translucent dream
Walls slide top to bottom not side to side as planed
Beach balls wait, watching their dreams
Onion skins cry for their interior
Posting bottle caps on the side
Streaming sands of underwater bait
Salmon wait before they jump
In dreams of eight
To tenticle their catch
Washing over captured cells
The rods left behind
The roads departed leaving sand
And dirt in their crab like wake
Storms brewed, coffee makers shook
That tingling under the skin our nervous fate
Dreaming sands of underwater bait
When joy separates sorrow and the last first
The bible shorts out and we go off grid
Lost in streams of rural ghettoes
Washing our toes with flint and steel
Hoping we catch fire
And someone will put us out
And let us in when we scratch the door again
Such children in captured cells
Wonder why we wait
Let's kill it all and find out
Passage through aggression
Let's kill it all and buy in
The whys of our troubles and the wheres of our life
The means of the lies and the cost of the price
Like some educator or politician to make it seem important
Or three times
Let's kill it all and sell out
Three times the denial
And the worrisome tabboo
That what we mean is what we do
Let's just kill it
The fourth time you know the charm
And what to do
Talk it through
And leave
Set it up
Parse it out
Do what you do
Reality dreams.

Denis Streeter  10/28/12

eva ot

An experiment in sounds.
Read as you like.



fish kom gon
don feedin troff
ova  billa hill
ahl tan trold
las up ben gon
ahl ah no
sho suga shook
messed gon thru
tumel tot
lank sids
bon gon wen
larf sidwaz
gon plinkin
sit sot up
down dimwiz
mort wahl
timmer tot
ahl non
eva ot
ahl ah no

denis streeter  10/28/12

That is how I vote

I'm obviously getting tired of all the politics now.  I've already mailed in my absentee ballot but am upset that my sister's ballot is being returned from China because the address couldn't be read.  At least this satirical piece came out of my frustration...and yes I eat a fistful of romaine each week.  Written in the form of a bizarre political conversation...

That is how I vote

I will only vote for candidates
Who believe in a fistful of romaine in every household
And I mean a fistful of romaine!
What do you mean by a fistful?
Do you mean baby size or Paul Bunyan size?
I have allergies to romaine.
Well...okay...
I will only vote for candidates
Who believe in something like a fistful of romaine
In every household.
What do you mean by a household?
I live in a condo.
I live in an apartment.
I live on the street.
Well...okay...
I will only vote for candidates
Who believe in something like a fistful of romaine
In the dwelling place of their choice.
But I don't like anything like romaine.
Well...okay...
I will only vote for candidates
Who believe in something or nothing like romaine
At the place of their choosing
If that's alright with them.
That is how I vote.
And that is how I will make choices for the American people.

Denis Streeter   10/27/12

A birthday poem

I wrote this for my co-worker and friend, Carolyn, who enjoys her walks...as do I...

The trails stumble through leaf lit drives
Cement walkways leafly woven
Spongy underbelly after rain
Cushioning my feet while wary of falling
Looking upwards trees waving leaves
Like leafy wind chimes
The darting bird I know but do not recognize
I look at the time to capture the moment
But it's the beauty of nature
Refreshing my soul
The moment captured, pictured
I want to revisit
Again and again
That restores my soul.

Denis Streeter   10/24/12

Reception committee

Sometimes the tops flow where I don't know
And I pull off the top and open the sharpener
Leaving the cannisters open where they roll
Hopping on dry ice riding the thunder
I don't know I don't know
When the fishing gear came tied with the huntsmen
Bent to beards laughing with ladders
When the old folk came tense with participles
Drinking lunch time wine and mercy
Opening the food vents waters flowed in
Flooded in glory and laughters sin
When the first came last and the last came first
Salamander wine dried my lips
And pulled my skin to gather in
Mats of flats and weathers glory
And the door opened out answering winds song
Breathless as creepers tangleweed bound
Bible side up with the middle removed
Cauterized top down
The senses were showing
Too late for the flood of tears
And the rooms opening light fought for more
Tears opening awareness
The mercy and wine
Breaking the ice cubes love left behind.

Denis Streeter  10/18/12

Tail wind

The barbers reached their max at two after nine
Spent chemicals and goldilocks down the drain
It was anyones enemy who came next
First the peaches then the plums
Someone had to pull out a thumb
And a thimble to put them in a stitch
Out the peephole looking at time
Reaching back to two after nine
Some mints returned looking happy
But they were having trademark issues
With the bears and the loopholes
And the after after was not here
Left behind on some slather flat
Through looking glass windows where Jack ate Sprat
Eating letters spies a rat
And the cook to cut off the tail
Toss or weave a rope
I don't remember
I don't even remember the words of this poem
If this is a poem
Or just nonsense streaming from my head
Better toss the pork rinds
Belly buttons are up
As a reasonable commodity it is such an oddity
But maybe not
Maybe I'm just saying that because it rhymes
Well not this time
It's two after nine
And the space mints are looking awfully spiritual
How did they get there I wonder
Under my tongue where Jack sprat rat
And the postman delivers under my mat
I don't know why I write these things
I just do
And I don't like to edit
But sometimes I do
Like to repeat myself
And the space mints are looking awfully spiritual.

Denis Streeter  10/17/12

Pillow head

Oceans laughing post
Billowing place
Last episodes of fear
Reading dinosaurs of eddies
Before bed under shock
A basket of spheres
Juggling to siren tunes
Emptying baskets time
Filling and failing
Sore behind knees
What knew was falling
Temperature gauge counting
Zones in place
Shackled tomorrow
Seasons fly
Perhaps fruit bat
Bringing some basket
To picnic
Better times
Radar in
Tilted sideways
Bouncing up
Feeling freedom
Under moon cushions
Flowery heads
And night pollination
Fills air
With expectation
As spheres drop
Oceans flow
Radar wise
Pillow head
Expectant dreams.

Denis Streeter  10/14/12

Two bags

Each day
I pray for strength
And humor to see
Me through each encounter...
And Friday night after work
I check phone messages at Safeway...
One inviting me to a Friday night show
At Cafe Racer.  I say no.
The other instructions about Saturday's dance performance.
I walk preoccupied into Safeway...needing only brown sugar
Walk out with two bags of groceries
Including one bag with Cherry Pom juice...
Drive home, check my computer, answer messages, and realize
I came in with one bag of groceries.
Check my coat pocket and read grocery list...
Realizing I missed my bag of Cherry Pom.
Drive back to Safeway, half mile away
Talk to cashier, showing list, and apologetically explain I left the bag behind
He says that he remembered me leaving with two bags, but
Go ahead and grab your three Cherry Pom.
I do and show them to the cashier who has me put them in a bag and
I walk to my car...
With a slow realization...
Open passenger door and check under seat
Where I see the bag had slipped under...
Go back to store and return new bag of Pom
Another apologetic explanation
And they understand...
Two bags, too stressed, split understanding
And I remember my morning prayer
And laugh, knowing I will relay this tale
To a better understanding of myself
And others
As they relay their moments of
Two bags.

Denis Streeter  10/14/12

Off day

I can not handle
The death of your mother
Your brother's liver cancer
I can only listen
But not feel
Feeling means involvement
I don't have the energy for that
I give to charities, co-workers, customers
I feel nothing
No sense of accomplishment
Of helping others
Even though I know I help
Knowing is not enough
To bring happiness
I feel numbness in others
Walking in their mental fog
Just like me
Their wheels turning
Taking nothing in
But their own lives
Preparing for Halloween
Walking corpses
Hoping festivities
Connections
Will bring life back
Again and again.

Denis Streeter   10/9/12