Hello, From the Other Side

I've got another blog, but I'll never forget the good times we've had. Hopefully I can keep it up with you.

Still in grad school. Working on my thesis. Yeah, maybe it's sooner than most, but it fell in my lap last semester and I want to do something with it before it dries up.

I take it back

The link below, is not necessarily an "absurdist" blog. Disregard that. I don't know what type of blog it is... all I know is it's got a bunch of my new poems and it's the one I use most often now. Okay. Toodle-oo!

Absurdist Blog

http://drawerfullofjetplanes.blogspot.com/

Moonshine and Haiku's

Here's a little word play mixed with the poetic form of the Haiku. I took "nicknames" of moonshine (who shot sally, white lightnin', and brown mule... another is painter's piss, but I didn't include it) and added them to the haiku's. For some reason, mixing moonshine and this Asian form of poetry seemed a taboo, but also strangely relevant. In some aspects, Appalachia is quite like rural Japan and other East Asia countries... at least I think so. The title comes from the name of a moonshine maker by the name of "Popcorn." He's an old, codgery man with a big, unkempt white beard and overalls... pretty stereotypical of what you would think someone from the back hills of Appalachia would look like. But I found him endearing and these Haiku's are for him.

Popcorn’s Haikus

who shot sally and
seven brown mules daily named
father white lightnin’?

there was a brown mule
who shot sally with a gun
known as white lightnin’.

white lightnin’ struck down
a man high on his brown mule,
who shot sally once.

Deep Image/ Surrealist

I'm currently in a class labeled "Writing Deep Image Poetry." It's a fascinating class and something that has eluded me as I think most of my poetry to date tends to be cerebral. It's been wonderful to delve into this style, though I may not be anywhere close to fitting into that category. I know I have entertained myself and re-awakened a love of poetry in me.

Vive

He draws the hills in meditation
with the lead on his tires.

They are thin, not unlike
the pencils used in
standardized tests.

The hills come smooth,
and rugged, with animal skin.

Leaves pass in a blur,
his morning and afternoon:
squirrel’s tail.

In his calf muscle
are deer with full racks
and frost.

E.E. Cummings

Please note that the structure of the poem has drastically been changed due to some wacky thing with this Posting program on this blog.

Buffalo Bill's
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death

Upset

I would like to point out that I think what this dumb blogger does to the form of my poems is disgusting.

I think every one of these poems I've published on here have been altered in some way (if not grossly).

Just take that into consideration as you read.