Here's a one-stop-shop if anyone wants to use it.

See it as a backup for the Tangled Branch or wherever else you may be hanging out with like-minded souls for the next thirty days.

Here's one to kick it off.  My Muse kicked me out of bed at just after 2 am.  Let's see if she stays as eager for the whole month.

Napo 1

Sun Worship

Shards of reflected light
slither slowly across my wall.
A refracted rainbow,
elemental physics in action.
A magic older than man.
Summoned by a dangling CD
spinning slowly,
on a dusty thread.
Light borrowed, gratefully,
from a distant sun,
without which nothing,
absolutely nothing,
would be possible.

Gyppo

Number 1
Spring is sprung

Dirty, hard, full of grit,
snow recedes at last,
like an ebbing tide, it reveals
still frozen dog turds,
ready to soften
in the weak morning sun.

The first Cuckoo calls
from the coppice down the lane,
the pigs squeal ready for Market
Muckspreader is out on the fields already.
Breath, smoke in the cool morning air
Spring has arrived, at last.

April's fool

the world
still turns and I
another month older
am still the same old sod I was
before

April 1 2022


After School

we took the Sixty-six Street bus
to the brand new mall called Southdale.
What a wonder it was--a whole downtown
under blocks and blocks of a single building
with real trees and planters
full of blooming flowers,
like warm, green summer all year long.

We ordered fries and cherry cola
at Woolworth's dime store lunch counter
and yearned for parakeets and puppies
at the pet store, crammed ourselves into one fitting room
at Fashion Sisters to try on clothes
none of us could afford.

The open center went up three floors to a sky-lit ceiling,
we hung around on park-like benches, made loud remarks
laughed and giggled at the snooty rich girls
from the private school in the upscale suburb of Edina,
dressed in green and black plaid uniforms,
walking neatly in their Pat Boone white buck shoes,
carrying pounce bags with which to powder them.

https://www.chronicallyvintage.com/2013/09/the-history-of-white-buck-shoes.html

April 2, 2022


Trapping Cow Farts

Animal pelts are so yesterday:
take Colm, for instance,
slogging fens and forests
setting snares for Irish otters.

Hey, Colm! Leave those poor things alone!
They need that fur to stay warm:

methane, baby, methane!

Napo 2

The Moth's Revenge

Two hundred miles on a hot summer night, 
zipped up tight in a waxed cotton jacket,
the fabric unusually soft in the heat.
It felt almost like heavy silk.

The old BSA romping along,
devouring white lines like a junkie
inhaling a line of coke.

Snaking up and down steep hills
in the moonlight,
bugs splatting against my goggles.

Pulling into an all night cafe
and striding in like an owner,
travellin' man feelin' good.

The serving wench, half asleep,
greeted me and then her smile curdled.
instant horror in her eyes.

"Bloody hell, Pet.  I'm not that scary."

"It's your jacket, it's horrible.
It's alive!  It's looking at me."

I looked down, countless small bugs,
stuck against the heat-softened wax.
Amongst them several bigger  moths,
red-eyed and buzzing,
alive but doomed, trapped 
by ill timing and location.

Whilst she fixed my coffee and breakfast,
I went outside, wiped them off
against the gravel of the car park.
I attempted to save one,
clearly still alive, but failed,
His wings tore off when I tried,
so I did the decent thing.

Two days later it was freezing,
and the gritty residue on the collar
grated like sandpaper against my neck.

Gyppo

April 3 2022

Dinner For the MCAD Bunch, 1970s

I always made spaghetti: cheap and easy.
Help yourself, grab a wine glass,
pull up a chair from the other room.

Three deep around the kitchen table,
bottles of Mateus Rosé for most of us
discussing the creative process.

Midnight:
we are shouting over one another--
Jackson G. design instructor,
slaps his hand hard on the table,
lifts and turns it for all to see,
asking:
Do you know what this is--
I mean do you really know?
We all fall silent nodding sagely.
Oh the late-night profundity.

Napo 3

Collector

I collect dead appliances,
and electrical tools.

It's not a conscious thing,
this hoarding of wires,
plastic housings,
tin cabinets,
and countless smaller parts.

Periodically it dawns on me
that I have a lot of junk,
which I'll never repair
because I have better stuff
which works just fine,
until it doesn't.

When I run out of space
for my new stuff, I pause,
look around in bewilderment,
and have a total purge.

After all, who needs to keep
three dead electric kettles,
a burnt out toaster,
two unused computer towers,
a dead electric drill,
several dead travel clocks,
one without hands,
a useless electric screwdriver,
and an anonymous circuit board.

Now I have an empty cupboard,
which I am already filling again.

Yes, I collect dead appliances,
and electrical tools.
Is there a Dead Tools Anonymous?
I fear this may be an addiction.

Gyppo

Number 2

All over

He thought it was all over,
finished, The End but
he should have known better

A bitter laugh
as he put on his coat
A last look in the mirror

shakes his head, picks up the shovel,
goes out into still dark day
and curses, bloody hell.

Snow in April, digging the car out
he thought it was finished, The End
Winter is back

April 4, 2022

Bringing Down Giants with Slingshots

Underdog prevails.

We love those stories:
cheer for the least likely,
wear their colors,
look at one another, smiling
at every inch gained,
ever minor victory,
choke up with emotion
when this or that local hero
steps forth to save the day,

hope for the human race,

except the fallen that lay
rotting in the streets
all look alike, none
are David or Goliath.

Napo 4 - 2022

My Fire Maple

In early spring it's barely green,
half open buds and tiny leaves,
but it always surprises me.
One day it looks totally bare,
buried in Winter slumber.
Stark.

But, like me, it's just marking time.

As the soil and air warms,
as my restless blood stirs
so does the sap,
coursing through the trunk,
the branches, and the fine twigs.

Then, suddenly, it's away.
Natural hydraulics unfurling the buds,
flinging them open,
leaves making a green mist,
floating against a still uncertain sky.

It's nearly always ahead of my Birch,
and then, seemingly overnight,
there's a red rustle and shadows,
dancing on my walls.

Gyppo

Hello Folks! Good to see you here. Vienna, glad you are joining us.


#1

Evolution

Collectors of light
viewing galaxy halos, wondering
where in the universe are we?

The mystery of dark energy,
sifting data, hoping to discover
the origins of being.

When Andromeda and
the Milky Way collide
billions of years from now

can all of this science matter?
Will humans still exist
as collectors of light?

~Deb

#2

Coasting

Sights set on sunny beach alcoves
Ocean waves chant lullabies
sleep in tents with
slumber more soothing
than any lover

Road trip to Glass Beach
into Oregon and Washington,
thick fog kissed cheeks
Redwoods and giant Sitka spruce with open arms
welcome us to adventure

~Deb

Day 2/Poem 3


Collateral Damage


Thrashing on a cold hospital table,
feeding tube up his nose, IV in his arm,
a helpless young boy, no older than eight
cries out into the solemn air
aches for the comfort of his Papa

That security and warmth will never come

for his papa lies writhing on a bloody mud battlefield
waiting for the medic who is also fighting for his life
as a defiant young country cries,
thirsting for the relief of freedom and liberty

~Deb

FU Putin!

Day #3 for me...


Cactus Hugs

You pretended to love me - you really tried
but you never could -
never even loved yourself

In all your warmth and adoration
the best you could manage were
cactus hugs





~Deb