Fermentation, and Lessons Learned

Fermentation, and Lessons Learned

Fermentation, and Lessons Learned

A bottled life and selective
capacity. How to fill?
Will yeast stay

at the bottom? What floats,
and do we dare
skim the surface, or do we

take a long draft?
Given the opportunity,
age will lend character.

Inspired by a comment by Robert Okaji, on end of daily toil, who said, “It’s not the thought of aging that bothers me, but rather the fact that there’s so much I want to learn and do, and so little time for it. Oh, wasted youth! 🙂”

Final Destination


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Final Destination

It was Chicago, a weekend in June, 2011, and friends gathered, met face-to-face for the first time. A blues club. A boat tour on the river and lake. The Poetry Foundation. Slam poetry at The Green Mill. Music, words and laughter, mixed, mingled, with friendships made stronger, lasting. A spark was born, and September saw our return, just you and I, with a festival of jazz providing the score. As that week ended, we knew we were meant to be together. Traveling back and forth… northeast, mid-west, Finger Lakes, St. Louis, Niagara Falls, precious moments with interludes of separation. But then, a year later, we were together. For good.

my mind running wild
too many miles between us
needing your presence

a state of calm by your side
my final destination

Using calm and wild, this haibun is my response to a challenge from Colleen Chesebro: Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge – #Haiku #Tanka #Haibun: CALM & WILD.

False Pretenses

False Pretenses

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Sometimes a poem starts with a photo.

You wear innocence
like the face of a mantis,
out of focus,
using the limits
of low light,

depth of field. Stealth
has its moments. Waiting
to pounce on the mistakes of
those close to you should not
be one of them.

How I Knew I Was a Poet

How I Knew I Was a Poet

In the cool breeze
of a warm day,
on a northern shore
far from any ocean,
poets talked in silence,
leaves rustling
with each page turned,
and eyes met.

That was where it began.

Words, spoken and carried
on a stellar breeze,
joining two hearts,
their radiance a nebula,

and I knew I was a poet.

Looking back six years, and we are now together five years in Missouri, to the day.  A day of celebration. (She makes up for the Missouri part of it.)

weighing a voice between the words of a poem

Robert Okajicadence does not march here,
flows instead,
nuance in its delivery

drawing a bridge between
the hidden
and what is known

encompassed by the world
and its subtleties

Hear Robert Okaji read his poetry, and understand. Not yet tagged or categorized as a recording, but just as exemplary, is “The Resonance of No,” from his forthcoming chapbook, From Every Moment a Second, available for pre-publication order at Finishing Line Press.

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