anapest

For the spoon never gleams/ without stinging my dreams/ in a dutiful saucer of tea.

The Not-Quite-A-Sonnet-Sonnet

Over hill, over my wail/ Through fog, and dale,/ Over pink, comes the night,/ Through verdant exhale,/ Willow bends and whispers,/ Swallows powder on the moon,/ Swerve in light shadows,/ Give the soul up and swoon,/ The bite of the wind can not be seen:/ Through blue borage in water her heart is born,/ Its petals and wings we deeply mourn,/ Those emeralds winking, woodsy ferns/ Her freckles dance tonight from here,/ And land upon the blossom’s ear,/ Goodnight, soft clouds, you make no sound,/ Our girl, her dust and voice now sleep underground.

tiny houses

There was hot water dripping rapidly in the cellar this morning. A small stream runs through the stone floor down there in the Spring and Fall. The clapboards need more paint. The foundation needs work. Everyone says the house is in good shape, but they say that keeping in mind it's going on 150 years old. I have another building out back to manage too. The french doors to the studio need to be rehung. It's not a big deal. But still, I dream about a tiny, efficient house where everything works. (All of these images came from Googling "tiny houses." Sorry not cited correctly.)

heen-ee-us

She grabbed J's face and he thought she was going to kiss him, but instead his brother's wife looked deep into his eyes and put a gypsy curse on him for a lot of reasons having to do with money and spite. Then she danced for grandpa in a dress made of twine and pink yarn, but it didn't work; she never got a penny. She called herself a genius, but pronounced it like "heen-ee-us," because she was from Spain. For a year she wore pajamas and worked in the tomato gardens in her village. There was one black tooth in the front of her mouth. She had a baby with a man who tricked her while she thought she was tricking him. She is raising that baby by herself in Madrid (she left the tomato village), while her (penniless) husband lives in Colorado with an Inuit girl who won't eat, but likes to sew.

Not a Sonnet

Dazed Spring/ with quiet eyes/ my brain is shrunk/ wild carrot naked/ what’s a girl to do/ when lights begin to show/ purplish/ forked/ going blind when I speak/ my heart/ hardly a whisper/ reddish/ upstanding/ the stiff curl: clarity/ touch a hundred flowers/ because danger is crawling from the wood/ mouth wet/ cold/ leafless/ lifeless/ on the road to the contagious hospital/ one by one/ objects rise/ and bow down/ my voice the gladdest thing/ will mark which must be mine/ under the northeast sun/ and familiar wind/ clouds of/ blue/ green/ I enter a new world/ my belly caving in/ I’m going out to play School was dismissed at 11 a.m. because of snow. I'm working on a poetry project to do with kids ... and others, maybe even really old people. Before the day is done I'll get to that sonnet.

Sonnet (I will be cutting up some papers to make sonnets later in a snow storm)

The sonnet came from Italy. It's name comes from sonnetto which means "little song." It's short -- just fourteen lines, and it's written in iambic pentameter, plus it has a rhyme scheme. There are three choices for rhyme schemes: Petrarchan: The fourteen lines are divided into an octet (eight line stanza) and sestet (six line stanza) rhymed a-b-b-a-a-b-b-a and c-d-e-c-d-e (the sestet is sometimes varied). Shakespearean: a-b-a-b-c-d-c-d-e-f-e-f-g-g (Yay! The easiest) Spenserian: a-b-a-b-b-c-b-c-c-d-c-d-e-e (The least common)

Dirt Road Rabbits

dirt road rabbits/ spying raspberries with wings/ messages from home/ beware/ waxy red poison ivy on the cape/ hot tempers too/ half-moon mask of vacation/ ankles swelling/ sharp words at breakfast/ take the shoe box of letters and postcards/ from old aunts/ into the July night/ and leave/ ask me/ again yes/ to go/ cliffs and clouds/ will go/ one white winter night/ in the midst of our Independence Day/ forgive me/ I burned my toes on Eastham sand/ when you said I ought to have been wearing shoes/ song of a poet/ on a towel/ dipping pens in red ink/ mind-flailing/ all the way from here to Provincetown/ mothy gloom/ in blazing sun/ miasma of seaweed and week-old crab/ legs/ going home now/ stars to lead my way/ nocturnal blackness/ moss on northern sides of trees/ coyotes wailing on ocean breezes/ dirt road rabbits dark/ eyes flashing/ as I disappear from vacation/ vacations/ and return home