Little Vines 9/24/21

This week’s selection of Little Vines.

in the seminary?
or did she say
in the cemetery?

it’s never been calculated but it should be
the effect a well-fitting tuxedo can have
on the public’s opinion of a man

singing inside its cocoon
the caterpillar
celebrates becoming a butterfly

the raw wind blowing in a night of rain
a reminder notice
from winter

my miseries stumble and fall down dead
when I catch sight of you down the street
smiling and waving to me

it takes me aback
how much that smug child knows about surgery now
when I remember baby-sitting him what seems like
just yesterday

you might expect a certain amount of fighting
from crows on the offensive
in regards to crows that are offensive?

surely I am jinxed –
even the pears are cackling at me
from their bowl on the kitchen table

with a great deal of build-up
and a burst of fashionable static
the boss set out on his Monday morning rant

Nose red eyes watery
the sniff-fit explodes into a sneeze-a-thon
let’s get the window shut
What a miserable year for allergies it is

the ripples that flow out from the center
end doubts and remove suspicion
never stopping until all of us in all the circles

and there are daisies
spattered across the night sky
in my own personal cosmology

the dictionary inherits the old words
the ones that are not often used and
it provides a safe attic for their storage

the new girl inserts herself into the group
envy pops the conversational bubble
the whoosh of friendships disturbed

the bland orchestra
splatters out a dreary tune
the dancers step around it

Chopped into sixty-four pieces
about a mile from here?
The body shop mechanic fingers the oily rag and grimaces.
No, I don’t have a guilty conscience.

I watch as a possible worst
spins past me
on the wheel of fortune

previous encounters
have left me shapeless –
what pitfalls will reckon with me today?

in the pyramidal dark
a slight breeze sways the hanging vines
the priests chuckle and the golden catfish idol gleams
Happy Day of Dismal Dire Reckonings to All!

the bell-ringers lick their fingers
begin to unshackle the arrested harmonies
of annoyed metal shells and clappers:
the sounds crash out across the countryside. Run!

an armchair
as charming as this one
deserves a cat to sleep in its cushions

8 thoughts on “Little Vines 9/24/21

  1. These are all great poems but the one that really stands out for me this week is #5215. It really showcases how effective your lack of punctuation in the LV series is. I have no idea where the emphasis of the narrative is and, therefore, whether the miseries mount and create overwhelm because of encountering the cheerful person or whether the miseries dissipate as a result of potentially being uplifted by someone else’s emotional status.

    • Thank you. One thing I really like about writing LV’s is that whole issue of so many of them being ambiguous or having more than one way they can be read or interpreted, punctuation lack or presence being part of how this comes about, I think. I tend to want to over explain in all areas of my life and this form (even though I made up the rules) keeps me from doing that. Which I really like.

    • Yes. I am not sure where it came from, but suddenly I wrote this and I knew it was the right way to end up my day, a little happier feeling and a little more secure.

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