Ode to the purses of yesteryear [boomerang poem]

Lost years nestle down in their corners
and hide in inreachable deeps
a crypt without stone & no mourners
Pandora on purse-strappage sleeps

has history patterns & sweeps?
have stockings more holes than we’ve darners?
are poems concealed in their heaps?
lost years nestle down in their corners


For Rachel Dacus
[riffing on her Facebook ruminations]

"comfort zone" [boomerang poem]

Light rain   for meditation sit in car
beside the charming park you call your own
the office resting down the road not far
texting a poem first on mobile phone

when with a job you're in a comfort zone
organic food & this not-bad cigar
the infobahn suggests you're not alone?
light rain   for meditation sit in car

signs & clues [boomerang poem]

I sit in my car after work   & text these lines
in summer in Beverly Hills   azure's profuse
the bevy of palm trees make   tropical signs
the swirls of cigar smoke limn   adumbral clues

my keypad's not likely to bring you   breaking news
my brain isn't prone to afford you   mystic wines
to file my report in the midst of   greens & blues
I sit in my car after work   & text these lines

"To like or not to like" riff [ditty]

To like or not to like that is the question
whether 'tis terser (in the ways of netizens)
to click against a sea of implication
or comment (for more full illumination)

who like to "like" withal more like suggestion
to like or not to like that is the question



Riffing on Ron Silliman's FB status update, viz.:
<< The crudeness of Facebook: that one would "like" a note of a poet's passing, even if they were in their 90s & died of Alzheimers >>

Bangalore riff [ditty]

We glisten in Bangalore
    sweat in Chennai
we listen in Mangalore
    in Mysore sigh

in Pondy we're rarely despondent
in Delhi our doubts are abundant



Riffing on Sruthi Krishnan's Facebook status update, viz.:
"Me to friend in Chennai: We glisten in Bangalore. Never sweat."