how do you turn over what's already there

the opposite of box is knocks

rhymes gender neutral

sow bats clones and cycles

no setting of agenda

diary past coming to life

marshmallow wake

feet first grave ride

sunny set aside

auspicious mellow, but not without order

a double negative figures it out

not fondly

rabbit chicken stew

no difference

a farmward past go

pure armeggedden

wait watching
something turned round

wronging the rights

hands around the waist

this is what it's like 

ground feeling in place
leaves toes wake
wandercide 

how do you turn over what's already there

denis streeter      6/6/19

satellite chapel

a kerilian of tea
that's what they got
with powdered lamb and lemon gray
don't know where the plant's been
in rome i guess
where they yelm for gold.  shell for clams.  reed for water
that is, after the stay stand
a little block of water for small labor
as long as they stay within limits
and draw a long ball down center field
the coming team must pay
and the turnips are grape
never know when tulips poison ivy
there's sand in the treads of water
no shimmer lad, no carving tools
they're out of shape and ill spent
just ride the poison  sand
stand in your shoes
you can't hide over there
in chocolate cream
moving to sundae
an earthquake mind
is pleasing but not seismic
riding a toe
a broom stick  remover
a romp on the bench
hide the pillow
there's nothing in the sand
your ego wanders. eggs on your sleeve
hermit chapel
where crabs go pray
good hunting
extra luster cleans the pan
forgive the gold fattened.  he's forgot to bathe
the batheing simple.  over the deck
where desks hide and freedom chapels
under the pine.  it's a bit messy
these bones and hose.  so much to do
capture an elbow nose
where it goes.  each hand goes clapper
the sages dumb
don't know the ages
i know it's pine
sentenced ears
it's a trainwreck
washing windows to snub your nose
and the tickets railing
one psalm at a time
let me check in that hand
a kerilian of tea
seismic scrapers
with powdered lamb and lemon gray
that's what they've got

denis streeter    5/18/19

may day

i felt sick inside
realizing the next feature poet is another award winner
that i probably won't care about
lately i hardly care for anyone's open mike poetry
i care about mine a little more, but not much
i rarely return to my poem the next day
the next may be better
you don't need to appreciate my writing.  just listen
i hate it when someone reads their poem
as if their words should speak for themselves
no they shouldn't
if you're going to read at open mike
you'd better choose something that reads aloud well
my poems may not make sense, but they read aloud well
that's what i care about
please at least entertain me for 5 minutes or less
though sometimes 2 is too much
let me care about what you write
show me you.  it's more likely to resonate
otherwise just jesus god shut the fuck up
yes i'm cranky
give me a chance to smile or nod in recognition
don't try to impress me.  i hate that
don't read something that makes me feel stupid
for not realizing your poetic nuances
i don't care.  i've already tuned out.
please don't make me feel sick inside
i want to like your poetry
give me a reason
something i can relate to
make me laugh
open mike me
i want to care
i want to feel

denis streeter    5/1/19

trumpet lessons

an older customer came through my line
probably mid 80's
so i asked if he had a husky card or alumni card
he said he was alumni but didn't have his card
i said maybe i can look it up by name
he gave his name as walter cole
i said that name sounds familiar
are you in music
yes
did you teach
yes, mostly brass
i think you were my trumpet teacher
do you know roy cummings
yes
he was also my trumpet teacher
what about...hmm...let me think...
walter welke
yes
he was my first trumpet teacher
do your remember music west
yes
i used to take trumpet lessons upstairs just above music west
that was on about 56th and university way
right next door to crucible books
where i used to look through the porn magazines before trumpet practice
long long gone
i told him about how i'd go to walter welke's place for trumpet lessons
i pulled open the curtain, there he was
asleep in his chair
he was always asleep in his chair
mother said go ahead and wake him up
but i was afraid
go on, go ahead
so i'd gently tap his shoulder and he'd startle awake
the lesson began...
walter cole smiled and said yes he could be intimidating and opinionated
he had bought a toucan pen and a binder
i made a copy of his receipt so i would know
because i had forgotten his name after the transaction
it eventually came back
memory is a funny thing
walter cole was not my trumpet teacher
he was my eckstein middle school orchestra teacher
i remember shooting spit wads at flute players i thought were cute
but couldn't admit it
mr cole caught me and called me into his office
i was so frightened
he must have noticed 'cause he only gave me a light talking to and let me go
walter cole taught at eckstein for 24 years
walter welke was my first trumpet teacher, but he was getting old
he referred me roy cummings
that was when i had lessons upstairs above music west next door to the crucible
then there was high school
i was also in the roosevelt marching band with waldo king
but i'm not listed in my senior annual
memories...they all come rushing back
in their joyful and discordant notes.

denis streeter     4/18/19

no explanation

baskets meet conclusions
two rulers and a fly
rest are forgone
fostered between pages rotting lines
under scaffolds trays emerge
one daft, the other sly
folding in conclusions
f equals g plus i
leftovers into squares
muffling cries feed passages
letters blend fending form
styles language
shedding leaves into diamonds
horseshoes to shade
tables to supper
shingling tablespoons
a matter of degree
comets confusion
a horse's x y's z
cleaning tables of debris
a chatter of bone hides left field
trombones to silence
happy wasteful under sly
pins drop canvas painting cartoons
an indirect fact fictions
what is this about
corners shedding little larry
cartoons pulling covers
late night conclusions underbathe
saddles quicken late
it's about falters
no bridle or rudder
living in self
creation miff
no explanation

denis streeter   4/14/19

Superfluity 2019

I got the My Book House series volume 1-6 by Olive Beaupre Miller for $35
The Pink Panther 5 DVD set never opened for $5
Some like it Hot on DVD  $2
The Wind in the Willows DVD (1983, Cosgrove Hall Productions)    $2
Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck  DVD    $2
Season 1 of House (Hugh Laurie)  DVD   $5
Layer Cake (Daniel Craig from 2004)  DVD     $2
Book:  Mary Poppins (Never read the book, loved Mary Poppins Returns movie)   $1
Book:  The Pig Tale - Lewis Carroll, illustrations by Leonard Lubin   $1
3 rubber stamps for 75 cents (gift to sister's friends kids)
Duncan yoyo with govornor (speed control) - clear so you can see gears inside) for $2
Angle Shot puzzlebox for 75 cents - looks like an old match box with different angle wood pieces
Space heater for $12.  (bedroom heater stopped working)
New can opener to replace old one for $1

I came with $55 cash
Left with $20 cash
Paid for $35 Book House series on my card
$70 I spent at the Pre-Sale.

I'll be back tomorrow and Saturday, but will limit myself.
I've already blown my budget.

Denis Streeter   4/4/19

The Frivolous Cake

I've been reading Titus Groan by Mevyn Peake.
This is one of the most amazing passages, at 16% in the library ebook.
A nonsense piece that I aspire toward, with my own writing style.
Lines are reproduced exactly as they appear in the book.

            A freckled
and frivolous cake
there was
                  That
sailed        on           a
pointless sea,
                Or         any
lugubrious           lake

there was
                  In             a
manner          emphatic 
and free.
               How
jointlessly,   and    how
jointlessly
                     The
frivolous           cake
sailed by
              On          the
waves  of  the  ocean
that   pointlessly
                   Threw
fish to the lilac sky.
               Oh,     plenty
and plenty   of     hake
there was
             Of        a
glory            beyond
compare,
               And   every
conceivable     make
there was
               Was
tossed through  the
lilac air.

           Up         the
smooth billows and
over the crests
                   Of    the
cumbersome
combers flew
                The
frivolous  cake  with
a knife in the wake
                   Of
herself     and      her
curranty crew.
                 Like       a
swordfish   grim     it
would  bounce  and
skim
                (This
dinner  knife  fierce
and blue),
                 And   the
frivolous  cake  was
filled to the brim
                   With the
fun  of  her  curranty
crew.

               Oh,  plenty
and  plenty  of   hake
there was
                   Of        a
glory             beyond
compare -
              And  every
conceivable    make
there was
               Was
tossed  through  the
lilac air.
                 
              Around  the
shores        of       the
Elegant Isles
                Where,
the    cat-fish     bask
and purr
                And    lick
their     paws     with
adhesive smiles
                   And

wriggle their fins of
fur,
               They     fly
and   fly  'neath   the
lilac sky -
                    The
frivolous   cake,  and
the knife
                 Who
winketh                his
glamorous       indigo
eye
                   In       the
wake   of   his  future
wife.

                The
crumbs   blow   free
down  the  pointless
sea
                     To   the
beat     of    a   cakey
heart
                And    the
sensitive    steel   of
the knife can feel
                  That
love is a race apart.
                In        the
speed      of         the
lingering   light   are
blown
                    The
crumbs  to  the  hake
above,
               And       the
tropical  air  vibrates
to the drone
                  Of          a
cake in the throes  of
love.

Mervyn  Peake, from Titus Groan


Denis Streeter    3/24/19