Wednesday, December 5, 2018

nonsensanalysis


sometimes I just want to write nonsense
like "the soda capsules pop twice daily/when riding a run of nylon"
there's something oddly comforting about that
it has nothing to do with sense
nothing to do with work
it is its' own separate animal
"a lion separates zoos with a postal pick pocket"
oh yes.  and there's something satisfying about too much alliteration
it's like you can't use too much of a good thing, or good becomes bad
but what about "the corner store locks its' fridge at midnight"
well that assumes some direction, some possible following verse like
"abby turned the other way and frowned at its' contents"
which makes you wonder
did abby look into the fridge before midnight and was offended by its' contents?
or is it something else?  it's really rather vague
but does it matter?
sure it matters, if you care about it
it's not so much the nonsense that I care about
as it is wanting my mind to take a vacation at the end of a long work day
nonsense is just the medium for doing so
if I say "the brick bat hit the cataract to see if it could grab a ball"
it begs the question what is that line trying to do?
how should I read into that
the answer is
don't
just close your eyes and take in whatever you like
you'll feel better that way


denis streeter   12/5/18



Wednesday, November 21, 2018

edit

my poem looks at me and says,
"please just kill me.  put me out of my misery. you've been writing the same fucking shit for years and haven't learned your lesson.  your poetry has no plot, no point, no direction.  just a collection of nonlinear with the occasional clever line or new word.  you're giving me a headache.  there should be a law against using the alphabet that way.  but you.  you've broken all the rules, and not in a good way.  you rationalize it as stream of consciousness.  oh there's the thought.  oh there it's gone.  i give up.  i can't follow where your mind is going.  you do have the occasional clever new word, but so what!  no follow through.  if you can't follow it, what do you expect me to do?  please just start over.  give attention. a sleeveless mind is an empty body?  really?  what the fuck.  how did that get in there?  streaming.  oh yeah.  good for music but not for me.  start over.  you really need to..."

denis streeter    11/21/18



Saturday, November 17, 2018

the pretense

chandelier littered sky oft in disguise
laboring beleaguered blossoms
bitter fruit balks petal pattered past
linked shutters blister on
disappointing fingerlings long on swelling days
valleys breezing gerted flight
halter bones shape literal trace horizons
seamless thumbs thread pineless bones
pone beyond name shape reveal
mites marking dust stone fragments
testaments scribble faltered confession
walking riding scribing in tongues
lessons lister blistered churnings
abuzz horn blessed freetle blossoms
Joshua baffles in confides
chicanery chick clapboard cupboard
confines listless abundant pine
storms steam seamless signs
grace peaks shadows and knows


denis streeter   11/17/18









Thursday, October 18, 2018

How to make lion roar capsules

1)  Take one lion roar
2)  Run it through a grammophone
3)  Attach it to an air compressor
4)  Fill empty capsule

Doesn't make sense?

Google lion roar capsule
to uncover this mystery. 

Denis Streeter   10/18/18

Sunday, September 30, 2018

lend me your ears


the mooring was loose and splintered with chaos
there was no jack and jill, or maybe there was
maybe they did go tumbling ever after
it was a sad state of affairs for both
it was a sad state of affairs for partisan leadership
if god is for us, who is against us
and whose god would that be
who will cast the first stone
no one really knows, but
it will be cast by both sides
it already is
each side its' lobbed lobby
how does each side deal with the pain
let's lose this confirmation and start again
maybe it will be a resurrection for both parties
I don't know
I doubt it
the next person will be another story
of partisan bickering
the truth will out eventually
but does it matter
it doesn't stand a prayer
but maybe it does
maybe it's all that's left


denis streeter   9/30/18

Sunday, September 2, 2018

dustemotion

there are two versions.  one is my first draft.  the second is pared back to only 8 lines with the help of my best friend.  there could be any number of versions.

the sex was normal for ice cream               1
wrapping the diner for dinner     
the vegetables were dining room table   
chicken spread dumplings on fire        2
salmon fries French Hammond 
an artichoke of beer and hare        3
beef it out to beat a pair
dutch pudding posing as extract
an onion reading muffin burn
too many sandwiches to count       4
over tadpole nutrition
suckers of lollypops dress down cabinets
watch the toothache burn           5
sutures beyond repair
the scene beyond control
butter bat pried on fire              6
too fat the cataract said the cat
not enough bone on the scone said the rat
the sun laughed at the cat rat folly
soon, she said, soon
but it was already noon
there was no hopscotch on the pavement  
the stones were dry.  it didn't matter                  7
the sun still had a laugh
it didn't matter 'bout the math
sooner or later the dust always falls            8
the traffic turns empty
bog turns to fog
the frog turns away
dusted


denis streeter   9/1/18



Thursday, August 30, 2018

careful with the pillows

flies at the flophouse
let them in
covered in gravy and pie
chopped and laced in rye
before they got panned
over in a minute
flour put out the fire
anise seed stewed
but that was another
hole in the middle
a comical fair
one glued to another
kept watch at bay
one fool at a time
why do we wait
a song on the toe and a hairspring tie?
you're entitled to know
as long as you wait
that cottage grove feels fine
singing beneath the rafters
a job well done
floating toes refining prose
a dress rehearsal
straying bay of steeples
the logorithms bray
reaching kitchen corners
blankets in repose
forgone conclusions
alphabet all night
long for tomorrow
guess for today
but that's not happening
longing for tea
the breeze took over
take out the stew and run
it's always better that way

denis streeter   8/30/18




Thursday, August 9, 2018

crafter's mather


sink shaft falters
too late the sinuous creak
above below ladders
boards wear to sneak
sending words to apples
pies to misnomers
beefs to meanders
links pass agressives
overboards to links
sinks in tallow bottoms
snores to fallow pies
in smatters of importance
I sneak impotent lies
dressing mantic altars
fleecing drink my pies
dressing dinner pavement
leak important lies
sins supply-lee showing
matters overflowing
jumpers weeding
purples feeding
flippers flying
get on board
lime train's trying
lesson waterboarding
sink like despot lies
feeding dinner frying
no need to create
some bum relate
lattice work trying
there's none working
open the boards
reverse the mess
teachers crying
school micing
feed the eyes
don't despise
their lying


denis streeter   8/9/18

Sunday, August 5, 2018

whose falt is it

shadow blundered coffee
rock on a stick
sugar broiled lye
second night out
temperature nigh high
Seattle prime
these are sensitive times
broiled lobster doing nothing
sits with the fries
wandering corpus christie
where lampshades go and hide
aminals reverses letters
shadows in line only in mind
they're not too quick
the brown fox jumpy
not the type stuff
centers in yoga land
where landmines bloom and fall
where ties quicken their steps
over quick brown leaves and curbside pines
there's far too many words
piebald 
look both ways when behind
such a bother
it's safe sex in a halter
why's it got to be so bad
the cream pudding so dry
i'd ask the falters
but i don't know why

denis streeter   8/5/18


Thursday, July 19, 2018

hoping for patience

the cardboards were dripping
above the kitchen stove
oven licked tails, climb on in
clambering between bricks and stools
cauliflower in its' wake
counterfeit dollars misspent
fleeced with yesterday's chores
pudding yanked aside
scribed 'tween fish and sallow
misunderstood and taken to die
seeds misspell the troubled eye
transplant geometry of y
open ended flows sideways
warning pickle on the sly
transformed madness
traversing steps
39 sides
each circle each I
hoping for patients


denis streeter  7/19/18

Sunday, July 1, 2018

what the chicken foretold / fowl chicanery


all the strong men were dying
their letters past prime
taskmasters stood in line
raking up rubbish the fallen dirt
bags foretold the turnover
pavement opened to fill their till
cigarettes were lucky
their flies on teaspoons
sucking down honey
food service gone
lids shattered like wrong paper glass
scissors stolen, a rock and a wrap
down below where the dinosaurs grow
sittin' pretty
quicker than rock in a mud oil flow
submerged picture show
artifacts slow faster than empty
a snore board wake
more snow than fitting chatter
take out the night guard
he's not teething just on edge
the cliff looks lonely, but isn't falling
no spilt milk below
just a target in a dust bin
the logic lacking
the dust bowl incomplete
better get a ladder
the sky is falling


denis streeter    7/1/18







Monday, June 25, 2018

it's not always genuine

the seats filled with chlorophyll, the nights with wey
no one knew what they were doing
the apples mixed with the pears, tortoise with the hare
all the buttons were missing, nothing was sewn up
sometimes the words run out of juice
it's like that with wandering
stew and walrus root, crab and pie
do the Dungeness dance, but hold it down
it's not always this way
farms add color and fly
night clothes in winter dressing
filled with papyrus wings
folding origami
the arms solid the night fall
the room is there, yet empty
the toes are missing as the light shivers
a hole that reads and discovers
it's not always a genuine place, but a place for rest
the toes reach out to touch me
I'm in another
everything has been said before, but that's alright
an arrogance of pieces
wordfully wrong and wordlessly right
sliding uniqueness into this whispery world.


denis streeter    6/25/18

Saturday, June 23, 2018

baby steps

the lens marks in time clasp passages
sendings upstream in Casanova's know
the sides need hiding, absorption
figuring leaves the mind dwindling
fighting those trestles that worm the mind
standing in sinks of gathering grav
filtering strains before they're gone
the titles grow, but not the reasons
sensing less each gathering show
tongues grow, feeding frustration
depression settles to ruin the soul
times afoul, shaming traffic 
beyond the cliff a rope toss
the lettering derse in verdant praise
fallowing fallout string theories in mind
elevator drops seize and follow
latticed tea, the letters shrunk behind stew lines
rabbits follow each horse's breath
strewn between shadow hoppers
cross-hatched in a sea of crow
loggering algorithms
dust jackets fill each tank
yellering fondly between intervals
lapsing controls behind distant stares.
the bridge feels iffy
lozenges before snores
the counter grows
pride before poor
they're done before you know


denis streeter   6/23/18

Sunday, June 10, 2018

it'll be gone before i read it

actually i did read this at poetry, so the title is the joke.  
i write a new one each day, so if you've read my work you'll know they're the same.


all the tractors live in rows
all the runes remain dormant
the sausages rind in wilderness shine
the herring never gets a hearing
washing up to shore apples
the peach got creamed but that was its' goal
flashlight in the wilderness snow
all the weddings smashed
wondering where to go
traveling one land to the next
apples in a row
in the evening pie we slaughter
mixing vowels not defined
intuit the bad
that doesn't make sense of anything
the tulips are sad so it doesn't matter
twisted of logic extracted from mind
it isn't that rage was developing
it was always there, but then gave up
some listless despair hiding in filters
not wanting to reckon
a complete shutdown
needs regeneration
i'm not there.  just a figment of a place disappeared.
the shelter is gone, the apple left behind
reach for the bunkers they're not there
just a figment of a repetitious mind
thought for the slaughter
how much better it is to share
nobody wants to go there
some shade of destruction
and in the final edit it will be deleted
because uplifting is the order of the day
substandard is the rule of night
although it's all day long
and rationalized by numbers
or words and actions
is it the thoughts that make it true?
or is it the depression settling in
that intangible beyond definition
the jumble of words spit on the page
flowing
the slide given the slip
it doesn't matter if they're happy
they're just there, ready to get hurt.
or analyzed to fault exchange
it's why the explained can not be shared
too many inverted pains
and the lucky get sick for dinner
when the pants get left in the exchange
reaching for that bag of elements
they're incomplete but who cares
it's real as iron and copper
fusing elements to create others
it's no good to ban
everyone should have the choice of good or destruction
it's the rationale that's incomplete
that sues and sends to court
oh what it is to settle
the rumors fly, it's not enough
so many meanings it's not funny
what is the funny bone but pain
and the washing up to shore the shame
eat your vegetables go to work
it's not enough
you feel bad
it's not enough

denis streeter     6/10/18

Saturday, June 2, 2018

north south ova east west


it was on between two sides of the pole
one north one south
east west were still hooking
the trash is out, the hooks in play
take a snap shot
all the onions arow
wander the toilet bowl
gathering fancy wherever it left
over the curtains it rolls
a treasure of cooking between the lines
an android of reason
distance shed between shelter
a totem pole, a light, a gasket
read when the lights went out
freezing the tires between shutters
smelling racks when erasers will do
all out of control
weasels are friendly except when they want you
then they get hungry
caverns turn to shutters, earthworms to dust
trails made, travails for crossing
winter born, spring sent
washing the pie with the worms in between
there wasn't much flavor
the caps were down when frying
capturing the spirit but not the essence
the tin mixed with apple
a plum in between to stir the rum
still a rummy idea for an egg beater
the sandwiches are dusty
pull in a drawer and get sanded
the trays as wide as the owls long
the rats and mice and bunnies scurrying
said one pole to another
"don't you think this is a tad
north south ova east west?"


denis streeter   6/2/18







Thursday, May 24, 2018

the plate is broken

cringe inducing sty burnt steel ran into
tripod offering mixed with myrtle blossoms
blushing as noodle lilies blinding stick figure art
flowing potato bent under lie swatters
left behind twisted logic patterns stolen
hid underground with bathroom counters posing as easter eggs
wandering tulip fields scattering fireflies for bombastitty
between nickel dime hiding scruple twisting hammers
loading cool aide stands robbing bike sandwiches
reading romaine leaves melting tuna trains
bred before bridge altars flexing bible blossoms
sticking filo behind ticket counters wandering pesky traffic jams
searching for travel halters trying to dish
sand into ant hills washing cash and trading lies
daughters peel orange rhymes drinking tomorrow
brandy hidden in coffee stands next to
cyborg creameries twisted in lime
beyond the counterfeit pie.

denis streeter    5/24/18

Sunday, April 29, 2018

divisionary


it was a cold weather toupee posing as a hat
the white sideburns gave him away
height weight proportionate/contortionist
a hint of belly hidden above his waist
compression is the sign of age
six foot two six one half
brown flecked white eyebrows highlighting the sides
eyes behind glasses said to be kind
deep
he was not larry david's stunt double
he gives me the dangerous job, being myself
messer of my domain
it's a german thing
goerte does not rhyme with goth
clove cigarettes the old orange
another missing rhyme
waiting for goliath
casting stones in glass houses
tarpelaine blue and sunny grey
sidewalk clippings read aloud
the smart phony crisis
the squares are the new rectangles
unlimited data
hexagonal logic
occult blood stool samples
adding by subtraction
divisionaries mold the answers


denis streeter   4/29/18





Wednesday, April 18, 2018

a little rotty

underwater mantelled
flittering constables out of control
desking bloated chapels
busket vegetables apple cores litter door jambs
knobble bobble savors spoons
beach bag boots temper temples
bedraggled courtyard prude
under writ soles
its converse true
shod the template
baffled two toes
yes those
big and slow
contemplate reversals
ponder ponticates
desk drools
petered postulates
pesky pampered prose
a little rotty

denis streeter    4/18/18




Monday, April 9, 2018

waste not want lox

the block was special but the wine was weak
treading different directions
landfull and raised till tomorrow
alabaster tile and windswept couplings
married coal to steel
oxen to yolk
stone shadowed equation
counting toes disrupted pi
round it goes equestrian fool
waste not want loxs
curling notes belie the nose
same as smelt in loxs
behind their shore comings
weebles wobble but they don't fall down
wandering between sandscrit
snoring pools
poof they're gone
the industrial distance
scabbed their fore finger
to dress in place
scabbard in hand, dress in pocket
catching hoorays rainbow bottoms
pinafores enlighten underpools wake
sound buildings cry
ring around the rosey
pocket full of posey
gentry gently
we all fall down

denis streeter   4.8.18

Thursday, March 22, 2018

letters to papa

the patterns were enough to snow
but i didn't know
which way the castle run
or why it was dying
i didn't ask any questions
just lay down in the snow
preceded drying
applesauce and the moon
some peanut butter off chord
dust from the mantle in stone
crossed eyes with a t
nothing to do with me
the travel's over
the driving done
whirlwinds but that's your shelter
wait until it's done
fine tune your comb
its' needle in a haystack
cross the cushions
cream the wine
there's someone to show you
make it up.  you'll get by
but follow carefully
then juice the spinner
testing for gold, expecting silver
nowhere to go
your time is up
down in the well
go get some flowers
it's cool, they're expressionless
first it was pie then the moon
couldn't make a choice
the lesson wasn't frivel
one got caught
the other let off with a warning

denis streeter    3/22/18

Thursday, March 1, 2018

how it's made

the bathroom door hides mirrors
deep in snow unkind
lakes like snowmen steeples
hot on top, slow below
even the showers were null
dressing inside the box
their gravity clear
short between sentences
0 to 20 the court ordered
but it was wrong
shadows grew in ugly faces
filling in fire
perhaps the stores were dying
they didn't have much, the hives were gone 
centuries slide, school dies recovers
sentences without commas trout
flauting their flaut and flaunting about
discovery a poor trainer
didn't know better
sentences snore without meaning
travelling in pairs where pathos hide
groans the dinner bell someone phones
someone answers.  it got the job done
it wasn't poetic, the neighbors know
it's soft as curtains swallowing fleas
sorting vegetables in short white sleeves
ketchup flows
sand showing ears in opening doors
close
you can lock up the hammer fly the flea
the bathrooms wise
leaking what's left behind
watering each hose tight
close when the talking begins
dissolving fixtures icing hot 
turn the corner you're one behind
more waiting in your cup
drowning in sorrow the hammer fly flea
left the doors open
it's time to go
let them out
the hemmings free

denis streeter   3/1/18

Sunday, February 25, 2018

what are the reasons

in the beginning there was chaos
it was without form and void
and then there was eden
and then there was chaos
and then there was
that theory that revolutions are
figments of our mind
useless machinations
filled with telephone poles in drifting skies
all the laughter was true
but it was meant to confuse
dwindling between safe and catastrophic
a dingle here a dingle there and the faith bump rises
but what kind of faith
is it based on fear, a sense of being threatened by others
all this meant to confuse and cloud judgment
and in the confusion you follow like minded leaders
ready to prop up your beliefs
but what if they need to be sanded
they're not quite your own
what is liberal and conservative
what is all of us
we'll never learn to understand another person's situation
it's much too complex
but there's empathy.  you got to try to understand something
where's the compassion
i don't know the way, but i stumble and try
i guess this lent i want to give up complacency
it's easy to give up pot and television
it's hard to get involved
with some sort of political action
it seems like gun violence would be a good place to start...
in middle school there was a guy who threatened to blow my brains out
each day during recess
i ignored it, gave a nervous laugh, and didn't respond
i always thought
that since i didn't react
he lost interest
but then there was my dad
my mentally ill dad
crossed the border bought a gun
who did succeed in blowing his brains out
so i guess i do know something about gun violence
at some point in my 20's
i shifted from being republican to democrat
the reasons don't matter right now
when mother died, my sister and i
made a decision to give up our family guns
we sold them all
about 10 guns
only 3 of them worked
gun practice had lost my interest
hunting was never an interest
and we sold
an entire briefcase of ammunition
estate sale gave us $1,000
and now
i am glad it is gone
no amount of ancestral heritage
would want me to continue with that baggage
and now
it's been one school tragedy after another
sometimes it hits home

denis streeter   2/25/18


Monday, February 12, 2018

the behoovers

all the poltry spotted hens
get back in line again
the traffic light out, the guns were in
gums break out in sage brush fire
all the drafts were burnt
the soiled dressing filed
the bone chipped preachers
preschool etched hives
it didn't matter how it was found
it was always better by the pound
the doctors hadn't figured
the dioxin were yoked
arrived by graveled snow
pulled by rabid rabbi
all the odd sniffs left
it wasn't beyond their boundaries
just beyond their know
it behooves them
gets up the roar and snows them in
ahem ahah amen amen
and the justice sword scours brushes
meant to beat the paddywacks
but the trombone got loose
left town with the moose
or was it the flutes and saucers
either way it shelved approval
first of two dope offerings
one at school, one at altar
but the hemming was too fine
nothing could be dressed up like that
put Solomon in a stitch
romans in a halter
the big cheese stepped down
all those golden steps
laying eggs ent easy
and the communists tell you why
lay one posy in a row, jump around, flack a boot
then the boss lays his finger on the rosary
but it's already been roasted
the pot caught the lid
smokin'
and it was downhill from here
once the judgment got afloating

denis streeter  2/11/18

Sunday, February 4, 2018

storybook

the sordid solutions worked into faces
one direction to the next
working tunnels to justice
the jury is out
comatose a spell
right hand directed what left didn't know
right left unwrong
that itchy thumb
hitching a ride to the sun
wandering pictures of salads wined
it wasn't always that way
when juice spilled and picked up manners
other times windows shattered
too much construction
the baths disturbed the wrenches
the wrens disturbed the verbs
all that destruction worked into vowels
dampening towels
shores laughing to keep clam
the wilderness opened that day
officers keeping tabs
when the lightning bolt came
too much wine to succor
cannonballs
sutures the drink
in line for another
cannonballed
where shores swap letters to pictures
listening to irons
littering highways in vowels
burdening busloads of towels
snowshoes their depth
cannonball specs
horizon travels higher
in shadows a burden of war
testing shots with swings
crossbow wins
lacking understanding
that willful swing
answers war with sleeves
up to knees swiping pictures
danders to dandelion
all that blows is neutral
don't know where it stands
the mud is messy
behind shelters searching
all the pieces went black
looking for a time that itsint
but better
the officers bent way
their toothpicks are wrong
their laughter non
but made for strong sutures
setting up wind for supplies
the flies flew longer
watching wind for clues
there were pieces in the shine
i picked them up and cradled them home
they needed yearning
it was before the world began
i needed lessons

denis streeter  2/4/18

Sunday, January 28, 2018

stick to the shadows

letters splay off another
one sound to the next
water cold thumb warm
on off
tables turn oceans wash
upside down the water ride
opening hills through dungeoness shadows
horrors self contained
on the main
water valves release their outlet
owls steam and stew, oysters crackle
the first remains open, the second closed
succulent sticks pliant doors
housing as hours esplined
days drew weeks, months to years
but that was another story
for you it was all I could do
the living retractable
all the contingencies grew through doors
underground vines posing as lilies
morning glory doesn't understand subvergence
letters draw their consonant fall
one page turns to next
floors fall into place
splinters of yesterdays
southward door opens and close
hidden paths spread their roots
malignant yet benign
that rise and fall
sneaks in
falls
holds everything up

denis streeter   1/28/18

Thursday, January 18, 2018

blunderbuss

shot between two shadows
the streams come rolling in
bent out of control and steeple chased
chastened out of wool and possum apostles
the bed wigs wool worn
too long for straps
fields of snow floored their go
beastly but undermined poe
watching trees snowboard and pitch bark
it wasn't a matter of elbows
they've been discussed before
it was a matter of bones
how they rise and fall
how they get their equipment done
the depressed quibble searching for sense
they don't really care for life doesn't give any
just a screwed up lank at a lass for lotr
farms scramble vegetables searching for eggs
nothing but an unsuccessful sperm count
ok for a whale not for a male
word emotions
the temperature freezes overnight
not enough to get the willies
the tablets are done and don't want to be taken
wise in the front, dumb in the back
the creator don't give a shit and the wise don't mind
pretend they know better
isosceles gone
going one flavor to the next
pretending ent nice
it's how to survive in a shithole
in the coming dawn when it's just words
those who say don't be a big baby
the sun goes down and the moon farts
smells in your dreams.  you have no castle
hope destroys the extinct
or am i an oxymoron
who doesn't understand words
doesn't apostrophize the lower case
just uses them willy nilly
it's not poetry
poetry parses its words
doesn't use trite sayings
shows don't tells
but the fruitcake is showing
there is no nose
castration no fun
where's the holiday
there is none
hope goes out the window
watch those toes
they're frostbitten
get inside
i'll help you with the ax

denis streeter   1/18/18

Thursday, January 4, 2018

plotless

before the moon folded
the sun slid sandward
toward the lake bottom
verdant and wise
forming no bond
covered in feathers and jeans

drifting downstream to the local sandbar
punching up beer and canned coffee
the stirrups were natural

the shelters weren't
the can didn't mind
it came from the graveyard

hadn't been turned over
next to the turnips it fared better
but not for future plugs
tumbleweeds
you plug em, we plant em
makes a nice nursery rhyme
for the decadent inclined

sitting in a cupboard
plugging plots
never mind sing sing
the blahs say
they've whispered up the ghost
down where the cobwebs cogitate
never mind the ghostery
foregone conclusions
the spade is missing
the dirt is dug
the spools are empty
the end remains plotless

denis streeter   1/4/18