1. An Ekphrastic Fool's Hat
  2. Trapdoor Spider
  3. Loss
  4. Dissection of an Ostrich
  5. Frog
  6. Reflections
  7. Inanimate Love
  8. A Wasp To Her Roach
  9. Meat Loaf and White Wine
  10. Avalanche Whistle Ad
  11. An Anacreontic
  12. Gallic Stickler
  13. The Rose Sniffler
  14. Oh, Mother Wherefore Art We?
  15. Blood Moon
  16. L'eyes
  17. A Touch of Acid-green Gum
  18. Shikaakwa
  19. Red Sunday
  20. Zebra Shell Unmusseled
  21. Frankly, dear
  22. Blue Lobster
  23. Cataphonic Translation
  24. Overlapping Cataphaticals
  25. Penguin Patter...n
  26. Crapshoot Curtal
  27. Make No Pompomish Bones About It
  28. Too Much Of A Bit Of Alright
  29. Not, Sturm und Drang
  30. RRR

The Ineffable Essence of Wind Eggs

April 2014

The Ineffable Essence of Wind Eggs
April 2014
An Ekphrastic Fool's Hat

An Ekphrastic Fool's Hat

No feathers in the houndstooth hat,

no feathers for you my friend.

I'll daub drenched russet leaves

upon the pale tissuegrain onion skin,

and mourn the lack of colour this dull day.

April wears a fool red nose

and rails against the ice.

The hat sprawls there yawning bashful.

No head needs it.

Faintly it recalls the fall.

But the thoughts that filled the head that filled that hat

have fled.

What sense to think of burnished ardor

on this dead first day of spring?



Trapdoor Spider

Silkhinged burrow

keeps the brood eggs safe from wasps

triplines that vibrate

Trapdoor Spider

Trapdoor Spider


A layer peeled off in every

new foothold, each track

a bone-scratched scrabble that

left some powdered dust I

kept in the memory I lose

now: its clawed whorl leaves

red pepper-prints on me

like in an ancient cave with

fading pigment no one

understands now: fewer

and fewer left.

Dissection of an Ostrich

Purple-black membrane against the light,

Spreadeagled as if in flight.

Both things you’d never do;

You were just an ostrich, true.

Now there’s nowhere left to hide your head.

Gorgeous mesenteries: so very, very red!

Was that an akkorokamui in your gut?

Honest, I can see it, just...

Still, why did you die?

I need the answer. I won’t cry.

Dissection of an Ostrich

Dissection of an Ostrich


Thorny tree frog
in resplendent pink and yellow,
hale evergreen monarch.

Tree Frog

Tree Frog


I peer out through the window; 

at least there's no more snow.

Raw umber flagstone hues, 

tall, still trees, bleached blues.

A lone icicle blinks bright

next to the empty grey wasp's nest.

I don't think my reflection is looking

quite its best.



Inanimate Love

Inanimate Love

Could I describe an inanimate love to you?

Impossible, through and through!

I don't do that love thingie anymore,

when I want something I don't implore.

I used to invest fond havingnesses in all kinds of things,

but births and deaths and farces…. life other priorities brings.

I've wracked my brain to come up with something now, in a rush;

all I can think of is my ink brush.

It travels with me, wherever I go, and keeps me company even when I'm low.

That, and black, black ink

and water--

that's all,

I think.

A Wasp To Her Roach

A Wasp To Her Roach 

I sting you with exquisite care

the bug  with two venemous jabs

tan cockroach this jewel wasp's host

now the lame beast’s the pale egg’s lair

in a tale as true as are most

that are culled from the grim facts of state

tan cockroach with venomous jabs

I bring you an emerald fate.

Meat Loaf and White Wine

Meat Loaf and White Wine

Those were our birds of paradise-days,
when light and poetasters brimmed in myriad ways.
Meat loaf and cheap white wine,
limping cars and full-sweat sunshine!
The bats in our belfries flew only at night,
and hell was a real place, put out of sight.
Twice, even thrice, we called ourselves crazy mad,
but not even once was that real thing sad.
Ain't it weird how the words all went south;
then, right or wrong, they took off from my mouth.
Possibilities greenly blinked right off the dashboard lamp,
effusive, illuminated, ineffably camp.

(Be glad I did not say damp!)

Guess the five songs, if you will, for NaPoWriMo2014, day 9.

Avalanche Whistle Ad











An Anacreontic

For FlyDay we smithy a midge of an anacreontic:


Single, solitary midge of dung

Share my cup of Syrah fun

Mountain made of redwine skin?

Phantom plumose in my gin!

Gally gnat, sip from my glass,

Ah, it galls me you to pass...

Just a net-winged little punk

Grenache sips my heart have sunk.

Gallic Stickler

Zipperless Obsessions will Boil your Bunny
            (NaPoWriMo2014, day 12)

As she glanced out of the corner of her eye
on her shoulder, in his beak a vowel boulder, wry,
quite so:

Well, an obese black crow!

A portmanteau of gallic velvet and crafty hook
was all it took to form a strong, but temporary bond-
easy to manipulate, but from it not so easy to abscond…

He cawed hoarsely in a whisper:
for god's sake, make those words a little crisper:
dropping verbal stones to fill your cranial bowl
is surely a most honourable goal.

In the burr of the moment, inspiration is like nature's biomimicry;
it will grab you loving tight, and then
it will set you cruelly free.

                and thus

With George de Mestral nowhere to be found,
with a distinctive ripping sound,
this very silly poem, umbilical cord still bound,
falls wetly,
wriggling on the ground.

The Rose Sniffler

Ken jy die roossnuiwer?

Hy is 'n man sonder stuiwer

Sy beursie is lig

Inkennig sy grinnikgesig!

The Rose Sniffler

The Rose Sniffler

Oh, Mother Wherefore Art We?


Do we choke on our vowels of almond butter?

See the demiurge expire in a stutter?

Oh mother, wherefore art we?

Running over holy cows now not funny?

In short: abort if the words are stale;

Don't mess up a good oxtail.

(The End of the Road: what a barrel of laughs that sounds to be.)

Blood Moon

Blood Moon

Sun and earth and moon align
rays refract, spotlight is the moon
our atmosphere serves scattering shine

Greens and blues all dissipate soon
leaving only red and orange hues
I bask in the light of this night balloon*

Missed the spectacle? Just wait
Six more months will set you straight!

(*no bad omen, only to a loon)
H/T to the Terza rima, NaPoWriMo2014, this fifteenth day of April, 2014.


I smithed a poe today,
it was only ten lines long.
In a scrumptious and deeply nuanced way,
the accent égo was placed not even wrong.

It was perfectly designed,
just like the potoo and the squid;
it shows how global warming is verily divined,
I'm positive it will sell for many quid!

-sort of like the Easter Bunny,
(Santa Clause and science-based homeopathy)
'cept it has existential depth and is desperately funny.

(H/T to NaPoWriMo2014, prompt 1)

A Touch of Acid-green Gum










My sketch book on my frozen knee,
I read about wild garlic free.
Frank Lloyd Wright, Cloud Gate, grey foam lake:
this windy citadel I will see!

Pfff- you do better, I dare you :)

Cloud Gate

Cloud Gate

Cloud Gate Reflections

Red Sunday

She said:

I so like fire-engine-red.

Look! There's the Museum of Contemporary Art;

Well, this is where we start!

(Oh, Mom) I said:

Can't we see the aquarium instead?

Zebra Shell Unmusseled


Your striped shield has failed you at last;

Your topknot has been shorn without care.

Forgotten are the filter-days of clarity,

The slap and foam of fresh water passed.

No more mellow morsels of food to share,

Your other hinged half missing- at this age not a rarity

Still, it's fun to recall the highest points of mumbo-jumbo

That sprouted so bysally from your carbuncled umbo.

Frankly, dear

Here's the dope this 21st day of April 2014!

Well Al Capone was born in New York at least

though Chicago claimed him

he's now sleeping with the jellyfish

aren't they to die for?

this day started with a bang

I have to say

they should call it

contemptorary art maybe

because the koi were the best

were those owls offing to hogwarts

try the boon of digital you say

when you're good to mama she's good to you

I just see the old-fashioned diving helmet

that's so heavy and

obstructive to one's view also

so really really hard

to swim with

you know we're immiscible

and all that in and out and in and out

of traffic like a leveret

on the way to O'Hare

just wore me out

Blue Lobster

Blue Lobster

Sad blue lobster

Wave your claw at me

Sad blue lobster

You're far from the deep blue sea

Sad blue lobster on this Easter holiday

Sad blue lobster, what do you say?

I dream of my family underneath the waves

I blow my sad bubbles in my man-made cave

Sonny ended up in a copper pot

Hubby complained it was way too hot

Daughter and I also got caught

Our little family has come to naught.

Sad blue lobster now you're alone

Sad blue lobster, look at my blue ice cream cone!

Cataphonic Translation

Estonian Cat

My likes: one vague lull,
my kissing, my licks,
in case you’ll lap it up.
My laconic vanity-
typical! Kickstart-keen.

I lust the jewel cuckoo.
Nigh, nay, nags you see. A lot on land.
Nay, you see: I am one of a kind.
Lie! No, all you pick is peace.

Overlapping Cataphaticals

Catachresis of Anagnorisis is a Crisis

There's a beauty in the buttresses

that soar so splendidly,

preventing stress fractures in

the ancient walls of the power

that tower above the Parisian sky.

Our lady has lived a long and colourful life,

greying with burning and with strife.

Now she suffers from dementia

and too many a tourist.

The spandrels of her graces still

wear gargoyles' cruel faces

and feed imagination's grist--

no perceptronium will settle these races.

The pteron and the cella run in parallel.

Why should the grey matter 

of the lady need protection? This shell

skull promises as well: 

Eternal hell.

At the small café with the nutella crêpes,

half-napping, eyes like grapes,

Sits a lapping alley-cat.

It wakes to nibble off 

a stranger's plate.

Look up, look even higher!

With languid lids and

curling coral yawn

the cat cares not a wit

about the cockerel's fate at dawn.

Penguin Patter...n

Penguin Patter...n

The writing's on the wall

the knitting's come undone

too many stitches dropped

to ignore the pattern

of the break

knit me an ocean

knit me survival

knit me a place

in your sun

Penguin Patter...n

Penguin Patter...n

Crapshoot Curtal

Last night's telly was about dating and hair lice

My thoughts are disjointed as I stroll through Hyde Park

past bursts of spring flowers and tall pin oaks

I pass a gentleman with eyebrows like field mice

ladies with toddlers in strollers, leashes on mutts that bark

I'm out of breath and out of shape, with no brollie I'm in for a soak

My God, it's so green here and lively with bird song

I'll ignore that the sky is ominous-dark...

I'm in London, capital of the UK

jet-lagged, my rhyme is all wrong

Oy vey

(Apologies to Hopkins for the lack of pied beauty.)

Make No Pompomish Bones About It

Between a Gourd and her Skeleton

In the balmy evening air they sat

he, on the bones of his arse

she in her tumescent russet glory

Lots of whispering about that

their pageant an effervescent farce

(Everyone believes his own story)

It is an indisputable fact

that gossip gives buzz to passing cars

and not everything is only hunky-dory

But between her (the gourd) and her cat

the black sky, the moon and the stars

truth was kind of compulsory

You see, she was not just fat

with alien seed from Mars

and he was not just sorry

Too Much Of A Bit Of Alright

The Antioxidant Powers of Grapes

It was not exactly a bespoke meal

and for the price, hardly a steal

In the spirit of the pink-pepper champagne

and this at-least-five-pound-gain

it needs to be delicately stated

that I was more than adequately sated

by the invigorating liquid gold grapes

and stuffed with grapefruit-flavored chanterelle crêpes

But what will stay with me:

The noticeable glinting gnashers of the maître'd,

the acid reflux of a slumbering intestinal lizard,

a monstrous migraine ignited by that culinary wizard;

the breath of a fire-burping dragon-

the gift of having been too long on the wagon.

Not, Sturm und Drang

Not, Sturm und Drang

Don't tell me you've NOT seen

a fat person die from starvation yet

even the rotund can die

from heartbreak

When you go all higher case

It turns one pusillaniMouse

Maybe four is the limit


Makes for perturbation

Though I have known

but little violence personally

it is NOT true that

what does NOT put me down

makes you stronger

We're NOT talking evolution here

It's more like epi(c)genetics

Sometimes it does NOT kill you, yes

It does cripple and maim

Even lab rats can carry baggage

You don't care for gossypium?

Who made you

the one to tell me

NOT to get my 'nicker' in a twist?

There is no need to slay a

lioness every time you want honey

for your porridge

Not, Sturm und Drang

Not, Sturm und Drang


back in Toronto
he said hi she said goodbye
red red cardinal