63 Comments


  1. Matins

    From under the cracked
    bark of a dead cherry,
    a titmouse fishes out
    a sunflower seed. Sing twice,
    small herald of mercy–
    once for the husk
    that housed the kernel,
    and one more time
    for the milky heart that blesses
    your tongue and gut.

    – Luisa A. Igloria
    01 30 2011
    Sent from my Blackberry



  3. A.
    What is A?
    A is A.

    It opens, non-
    blurry mercy,
    thricely.


    1. And B.
      B curls twice
      into itself.

      Small
      mercies – it tucks
      the corners into bed.


    2. D
      isn’t D
      prived of
      another half.
      Its smile is full,
      its single string
      is taut with D
      light.


    3. E, so regal
      in upper case,
      it’s easy to forget
      how the commonest letters
      can close their fists.


          1. (Now that’s what I’m talking about! I can’t stop being metaphysical. See below.)


    4. F: the first curse
      must begin softly,
      with your closest companion
      E, then ef
      it up.


      1. G

        Gravitas is
        the gooseneck lamp
        above the foldout desk,
        the grizzled poet poring
        over goldenrods or
        geraniums.


        2. N

          When
          was the last
          time I clambered
          up a slide and
          rode it, rapid
          down– which
          seemed
          up?


          1. L
            begins with E—
            like F, except
            it keeps what F loses
            and thus becomes
            so much lovelier.

            N:
            as above, so below,
            said the god with the head
            of an ibis.

            (Clearly, we each need to do an N!)


  4. Again, a bright use of apostrophe. Luisa Igloria is establishing a record for “poetry on the run.” Excellent.


  5. Bob and Luisa use ideography to stimulate an experience. I particularly like B tucking corners into bed.

    These are digital art that builds on the tradition of architectonics on the page. They recall Apollinaire, Andre Breton, Jose Garcia Villa, and Ezra Pound.

    Good eyes, good minds.


    1. That was for K –

      I’m getting a little confuzzled about the reply streams, Dave!


      1. L

        Let me in, let me in.
        I came in late at H,
        so here’s my pitch,
        and may I join the game?

        H
        Hold it, hold it, hold it—lest the bridge fall
        Between the two I’s (of Head and Heart);
        While linking they might yet break the wall
        That divides them where they always part,
        Where one thinks and the other feels:
        Head: I think. Heart: Therefore, I love.
        Finally they get it, as one to the other seals:
        There is Hope still, so come hither, my dove.

        M
        Uh, oh. There goes the bridge
        Down between the posts of M.
        I am off the game.


  7. N
    The bridge is propped up,
    becomes a slide from top
    of left post to bottom right,
    but off to Mass I go, and so good night.

    Night, Luisa; night, Dave.
    Until then on Morning’s Porch, save
    the rhymes, save the reasons
    why poetry is a game for all seasons.
    Besides, I am too old for slides,
    Luisa, can’t go down nor up besides.

    Pardon the doggerel, Luisa and Dave.
    I must hie to church and my soul save.


    2. Thanks for playing, Albert! Unfortunately, I was off making supper for the family.


      1. A little confession, Dave. In church, I could not concentrate on my Oremus. I had to get back to this.
        Thank you, Luisa, and Bob (He started it!) for this chance at spontaneous levity.
        I enjoyed it.


    1. S
      Slalom slopes
      are one-way
      downers, but
      look how S
      is truly up
      and downers.
      Like life.


      1. T

        Tell me
        one
        clear
        thing:
        I’d like
        to hear
        not two-
        way signals
        tilting in
        the wind.


  10. T

    Did they have to nail
    those hands and feet
    on that tree in Golgotha?
    The pastor asked why?
    Why not? I muttered.
    After all, they are arms
    outstretched to hold us all.
    So Miss Kilmer sang to us
    in Sunday school:
    “I think I shall never see,
    a poem as lovely as this tree.”


    1. U

      Upturned
      like a mouth,
      like a well
      under the stars;
      upended,
      umbrella
      deflecting
      asterisks
      and commas.


      1. U

        Like a streetcar
        named desire,
        it has its start,
        its curb, its turn,
        its way back.
        I would not want
        to get out there
        anymore if I did
        not have a guide,
        a map, a way back
        home like U.


  11. S
    We were both lost,
    though heading in
    opposite directions.
    “Have you seen my white eye?”
    “Have you seen my black?”


      1. You have
        a point.

        V’s yours.
        – – –

        W

        Window shaded
        with accordion pleats–
        wistful is the one
        who leans out;
        watercolors in the distance.


      2. V
        In the anatomy
        of the ear, this is
        the part called
        the chantarelle.


          1. Hi Luisa,
            A brief PS …
            In Dutch, we have ‘cantharel’, which is a kind of mushroom, used in the better restaurants for mushroom soup. Am suddenly wondering if that part of the ear is shaped like one.
            *banana grin*
            Ella


          2. Ella, it is precisely that mushroom I meant. In reality, there is no such organ in the ear — but there should be!


        2. Chantarelle is such a lovely word. I thought of cochlia, but that would have been C rolled up in a spiral. So of course I had to google it . The description says the mushroom is funnel shaped (V) but when I looked at pictures it looks more like the outside of the ear. Either way it is lovely word that rolls so easily off the tongue, and thanks to you I learned something new today. : )


    2. W

      Tattoed on his bicep,
      the “W” tells him:
      Beware the roads you
      take, or roads not taken.
      The ups and downs of W
      match those of living.
      There is a final road to
      glory, the last leg goes up
      to one other V: Victory
      over the bondage
      of this body.


  13. You have V and X, therefore.

    – – –

    Here’s Y.

    – – –

    Y

    I yield
    to you
    as to warmer
    wind– the two
    top buttons
    come undone.


      1. X
        Whenever the numbers
        go on strike,
        here’s your scab:
        four strong limbs
        ready for any value.
        No pesky head.


  14. Z

    We glide
    from one axis
    to another,
    in order to
    begin again,
    defying
    zero.


  15. You hooligans have kept me so distracted (I’m mock complaining, natch!) from writing my conference paper. Back to the salt mines for me, argh! G’night :)


    1. Z

      I will leave the sandbox
      for a while, porch friends,
      and rest these weary haunches.
      Am sure I need my
      ZZZZZZZs
      like you need yours,
      lest I accelerate
      to an ultimate zero.

      The night is good
      despite the snow,
      so goodnight, too,
      Luisa, Dave, and
      Barbara. Do not
      stay up too late.
      Tomorrow is Monday.


  16. V

    A sea gull
    (with two good wings)
    guarding the sacred fire of dawn
    like a vestal virgin


  17. This was so entertaining I had to try one.


      1. Hi Dave ! Thnaks for telling me to check it out – I got some good chuckles from it. Now I want to write and paint both. In between making jewelry and sculpting clay. Somehow I think this winter is just not going to be long enough. : )


  18. Open-mouth O!

    What fun…

    Now that seems like a Sunday parlor game rescued from the nineteenth century.


  19. very, very lovely little poems. an alphabet like a grown-up version of the ones in my toddler’s alphabet books.


  20. I’m dazzled, and speechless.


  21. Hey, I had no idea you were having so much fun over here on the porch!


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