not sure how many words

[Angeline]

Angeline! This is rapidly growing into something epic. Let me know when it is ready and I will watch for it in the New Yorker. My gawd, goil. It's so perfectly balanced and evocative and jazzy and rhythmic and oh, did I say perfect? I'm sorry I'm gushing. It probably needs work in your eyes but from where I read (and I read it out loud) it's only tweaking hereafter.

Looking forward to III

I'm loving the historical side of it too. I was born too late to be a beatnik, but I can imagine and feel those pre days in your writing. thanks A

Me too, me too! Please sir, I want sa' mooore!

And I can't get 'a rumpled punctuation' outta my head. Some thievery may take place, if that line suddenly grows legs and walks, you'll find it at my house. Where the door's always open in case you're ever in need of a sunny place to crash.

Thanks folks--although Champ much as I lurve you, I think you've snapped your cap! That poem needs more work! I feel like the spacing is a mess and I need to do something different with line breaks. I'm thinkin on it.

So here's the photo that made me think "a rumpled punctuation."

Right?

 

[Trixareforkids]

Thanks folks--although Champ much as I lurve you, I think you've snapped your cap! That poem needs more work! I feel like the spacing is a mess and I need to do something different with line breaks. I'm thinkin on it.

So here's the photo that made me think "a rumpled punctuation."

Right?

Yes! Great photo.

 

[Angeline]

Yes! Great photo.

It is! And here's the song: Society Red

 

[champagne1982]

Thanks folks--although Champ much as I lurve you, I think you've snapped your cap! That poem needs more work! I feel like the spacing is a mess and I need to do something different with line breaks. I'm thinkin on it.

So here's the photo that made me think "a rumpled punctuation."

Right?

See? I knew you'd call me on it. What is editing spacing if not tweaking? I think you've captured the right tone and rhythm to evoke, in verse, all the jazzy things that photo does when I look at it. What more could a poem need?

p.s. I lurve u tooo...

 

[Angeline]

Maine
skies
are thick,
painterly
and sincerely blue
but trompe l'oeil in cottony
deceptions, open
mouths that rant
rain, ice,
snow
snow.

The
dawn
arrives
too early.
It can't be five yet,
but sunshine pokes through lidded blinds
and squirrels scramble
in rafters
above
my
head.

The
snow
rises,
icing paints
the wooden railings.
A tiny avalanche occurs
with sparkle and thud
across the street
from our
small
lair.

We
dig
the car,
prospectors
of slow heavy ice.
Phew! Get in the car where it's warm,
put on a cd.
It's Bobby's
Country
Pie
crunch.

 

[todski28]

Ange, this is beautiful scene and the shape of the fibronacci seem to elevate this piece to something I quite enjoy, vivid language has it full of atmosphere but I almost feel your first and second stanza should be switched to give lineation, or is there a reason in missing? Because the descriptive "painterly blue" puts it in the day time so it doesn't appear as if you are scene setting an overnight to morning type of poem.

Just some thoughts but enjoyed your descriptive highly visual piece here.

 

[Angeline]

Ange, this is beautiful scene and the shape of the fibronacci seem to elevate this piece to something I quite enjoy, vivid language has it full of atmosphere but I almost feel your first and second stanza should be switched to give lineation, or is there a reason in missing? Because the descriptive "painterly blue" puts it in the day time so it doesn't appear as if you are scene setting an overnight to morning type of poem.

Just some thoughts but enjoyed your descriptive highly visual piece here.

Hi Tod. Thank you for the feedback. I think you are right: it is definitely an improvement to switch those first two fibs so that there is a sense of time unfolding. There really was no reason (or rhyme lol) at this point as I was just writing fibs about Maine, assuming I'd make more sense of them once I had a bunch of them. That was my approach with the Dexter stuff, too: just write and move things around later to fit the theme and make it work in various ways.

Also it is comforting for me to write about this. It was a very happy time for me. So I'm just throwing out the bits and pieces as they occur to me. More and more, I am writing that way instead of thinking right off about what the finished "poem" should be.

 

[Angeline]

I
am
moving
into the
hidden green hollows.
The Appalachian embrace
weights the air smokey
secretive
and soft
voices
hush.

 

[greenmountaineer]

I
am
moving
into the
hidden green hollows.
The Appalachian embrace
weights the air smokey
secretive
and soft
voices
hush.

This reminds me of Clingman's Dome, Angie, not far from you, I believe. I went camping there once, and as day broke, the mountains truly were "smokey" and spiritual in the sense of everything was as it should be.

I hope you're healing well.

 

[Angeline]

This reminds me of Clingman's Dome, Angie, not far from you, I believe. I went camping there once, and as day broke, the mountains truly were "smokey" and spiritual in the sense of everything was as it should be.

I hope you're healing well.

Hi GM. Nope, not far from me at all.

I miss my boy like crazy, but I'm doing ok. The trick, I believe, is trying to live in the moment and not getting hung up on the past or the future. Now is really where we live anyway, right? And that was very much Terry's philosophy, so I think trying to live that way is honoring him.

The mountains are a spiritual force. That may sound a little wacky, but if you are surrounded by them you know it's true. It is peace-inducing just to look at them.

 

[Angeline]

I
think
of you
veering off
unexpectedly
to sharp angles, brilliant corners,
the jagged beauty of your blues.
Thelonius Monk!
You sure could
play you
some
keys.

Round
12
midnight
sax man plays
a fragile tone soft
crumpled until the trumpet wakes
up an indigo reveille
for the piano
on the path,
walking
that
way.

Sax
Land
flutters
velvety
soft but sure footed
tenderly minor, compelling
with a careful voice. Snake charmer
uncoils jazz floats
note by note
into
blue
haze.

 

[champagne1982]

Hi GM. Nope, not far from me at all.

I miss my boy like crazy, but I'm doing ok. The trick, I believe, is trying to live in the moment and not getting hung up on the past or the future. Now is really where we live anyway, right? And that was very much Terry's philosophy, so I think trying to live that way is honoring him.

The mountains are a spiritual force. That may sound a little wacky, but if you are surrounded by them you know it's true. It is peace-inducing just to look at them.

Joseph Campbell would be proud.

 

[Angeline]

I
can
not speak
in your tongue
or know what you sing
Fatoumata Diawara,
but your ringing voice and guitar
sound like bells to me.
Clarity
comes then
and
shines.

 

[Angeline]

work in progress

Epistrophy Fibonacci

I
think
of you
veering off
unexpectedly
to sharp angles, brilliant corners,
the jagged beauty of your sound.
Thelonius Monk!
You sure could
play you
some
keys.

You
a
crazy
eccentric
angular genius
sweetly swinging discord, the blues
upside down high wire walking
the left hand tuneful
the right hand
steady
on
groove.

At
first
you think
it's simple
straight arpeggios
no chasers but the pace changes
and the lonesome moon
drops low down
and calls
your
name.

This
is
the song
you're singing--
Misterioso!
Unexpected incandescence
neglected brilliance
elbows knees
and the
odd
hat.

Round
12
midnight
sax man plays
in fragile tones soft
crumpled until the trumpet wakes
up an indigo reveille
for the piano
on Monk's path,
walking
that
way.

Sax
Land
flutters
velvety
soft but sure footed
tenderly minor, compelling
with a shaky voice. Snake charming
uncoiling jazz
note by note
into
the
haze.

 

[pensivepoet]

Though i'm woefully ignorant of the context, i sure enjoy the way you lay it out. Very soothing to read.

 

[Angeline]

Though i'm woefully ignorant of the context, i sure enjoy the way you lay it out. Very soothing to read.

Thank you.

I had never written the Fibonacci form until recently and now I'm sorta obsessed with it.

 

[Trixareforkids]

Thank you.

I had never written the Fibonacci form until recently and now I'm sorta obsessed with it.

It's a fun form, I'm glad you introduced me to it.

And I can't wait to see all your jazzy fibonaccis when you've finished them. I think it's going to be epic!

 

[Angeline]

It's a fun form, I'm glad you introduced me to it.

And I can't wait to see all your jazzy fibonaccis when you've finished them. I think it's going to be epic!

It is! I keep adding to it. I was invited to submit to a chapbook contest but not sure it'll be ready in time for that one. I tinker endlessly: I think it's the indecisive Gemini in me.

 

[Angeline]

still in progress

Epistrophy Fibonacci

I
think
of you
veering off
unexpectedly
to sharp angles, brilliant corners,
the jagged beauty of your sound.
Thelonius Monk!
You sure could
play you
some
keys.

You
a
crazy
eccentric
angular genius
sweetly swinging discord, the blues
upside down high wire walking
the left hand tuneful
the right hand
steady
on
groove.

At
first
the sound
seems simple
clean arpeggios
basic scales but then the chords shift,
and the lonesome moon
hangs sideways
and calls
your
name.

There
is
the song
he's playing--
Misterioso!
Unexpected incandescence
from quiet brilliance,
elbows knees
and the
odd
hat.

Straight
no
chaser,
Sonny plays
a sweet haunting blues.
More than you know baby more
to the point comes Monk,
sour notes
define
his
groove.

Round
12
midnight
Harold plays
in fragile tones soft,
crumpled until the trumpet wakes
up an indigo reveille
for the piano
on Monk's path,
walking
that
way.

Sax
Land
flutters
velvety
soft but sure footed
tenderly minor, appealing
with a faltering voice. Snake charms
uncoiling jazz
note by note
into
the
haze.

 

[Angeline]

All
the
things you
are baby,
your quirks and sorrows
are forever locked within me
and forgetting you
would be like
stopping
my
breath.

I
think
of you
minute by
minute. Perhaps this
wound can begin to heal, to scar--
knotted memories,
changes no
one sees
but
me.

 

[pensivepoet]

Beautiful

 

[Angeline]

Beautiful

Thank you.

 

[Angeline]

I lay in the blues
of our bed and my hair spread
that mood electric the chords
that wrap us over and ever

new in the shock of eyes
caught more naked than skin,
nothing left between us to lose
and what do we win but this
moment of feeding, pounding

and the slow slip of nails
along the wall. How's that?
How's that? Is it better?
Are you better?

No more miles between us,
just Miles and serious jazz.
So What plays in dim TV light.
Round midnight the clock's hands
are closed in timeless prayer.

It doesn't matter anymore
if no one understands that this
is love as simple as it's meant
to be, but never seemed possible
until endless now cradled us here.

 

[Angeline]

growing but still needs work!

Epistrophy Fibonacci

I
think
of him
veering off
unexpectedly
to sharp angles, brilliant corners.
Thelonius Monk!
You sure could
play you
some
keys.

You
a
crazy
quiet cat,
angular genius
upside down high wire walking
discord, but tuneful--
sinistral
rhythm
sure
nuff.

I'd
call
you a
stylist.
Who else sounds like you?
Listen to Blue Sphere and you know
in your tip tap feets,
that there's Monk
singing
his
song.

You
think
the sound
seems simple:
clean arpeggios,
scales, and then comes the flatted fifth
when the lonesome moon
grins sideways
and shines
you
on.

Monk
you
were so
famously
Misterioso--
unexpected incandescence
off-center magic,
elbows, knees
and the
odd
hat.

Straight
no
chaser,
Sonny blows
luxuriant blues.
More than you know baby more
to the point is Monk--
acid notes
define
his
groove.

Sax
Land
flutters
velvety
soft his faltering
midnight tenor voice, hypnotic
uncoiling jazz
note by note
into
the
haze.

 

[Angeline]

Tangled Up In Blue Fib

It's
true
baby's in
the sky but it's me
feeling blue and free as a cloud
drifted out to sea
with the waves
dolphins
and
time.