Juicy Quote
“I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits till I were as crest-fallen as a dried pear.”
– Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor
“I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits till I were as crest-fallen as a dried pear.”
– Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor
( The haiku are from Jack’s forthcoming book,
WIDE ROAD TO THE EDGE OF THE WORLD:
301 haiku.)
*
Hearing Mom and Dad
fighting in the bedroom room.
Outside, the red moon.
*
I lost who I was.
Then I found who I would be.
Only who I was knew.
*
In the safe darkness
of the theatre I find truth:
Annie gets her gun.
*
There’s Charlie Chaplin
running but getting nowhere—
a plan for a life
*
falling in rhythm
to the buzzing of the bees
over something dead
*
Would that I was wise,
not this enlightened monkey
wearing monkey mask
*
They open my chest
and then put my heart on ice
while my brain simmers.
*
To write War and Peace:
In the stationary store
ask for more paper.
*
Poetry kills me.
I can’t face its stern demands,
heart filled with cobwebs.
*
When I’m gone, I’ll sure
miss that dove whose song wakes me,
but will she miss me?
*
Fortune cookie says,
“You will go on long journey.”
Pay check. Leave at once.
*
How to eat this life?
Break the past into pieces,
eat one piece at a time.
*
I love this sharp knife.
How it cuts the red pepper.
Salad filled with blood.
*
My childhood is gone.
I don’t want to go back there.
Too much mystery.
*
Once I was a dog.
No one was afraid of me.
I licked people’s hands.
*
I’m a proud Virgo.
One day I’ll be organized,
surrounded by worms.
*
Some things are too sad
to write about on paper.
My closed mouth writes too.
*
Poems not money
give such meaning to my life.
Sometimes meaning sucks.
*
Shakespeare, bricklayer.
Dante, the wise carpenter.
Me? Corn to chickens.
*
At a loss for words?
Call Jack Grapes, home or office,
day or night, for help.
*
I’ve squandered so much,
and given less than I could,
asleep in the rain.
*
Sit still a minute.
Now, let your heart open wide
and see what falls in.
“Don’t be ashamed to weep; ’tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.”
― Brian Jacques, Taggerung
“I hear the moan that gets lodged in your throat,” she says. That
‘uh, uh, uh, uh,’ I do.
Just like boys do. “My Butterfly Penis!” I say. She likes
to look at my face right before I make her
cum. “To watch your conceited gaze, “ she says. The
point at which she knows I
have her. “What else do you see? “ she says. “I hear a little
girl. With a dainty voice. Making
soft sounds,” I say. It’s more of a look on your face. Your angles
get softer. Like the muscles in your jaw relax.
But if you could fit inside my skin with me and fit inside my
love for you. You would see, you would feel all that I know.
And you would lie there naked-unafraid. Totally
exposed. Like a little show-off.
– Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher
© 2013
On Fridays we wear fedoras and go down to the Crow’s Nest. The ocean view reminds the Captain of Key West, or as he calls it, “Kayo Waso.” I order him the tempura prawns and a glass of chardonnay. As soon as we’re seated, I watch his pale blue eyes following the young waitresses in their short skirts and high heels.
“Nice atmosphere!” the Captain shouts at me across the table. Then his eyes dart back to the tan legs and red lips.
“Sure is, pal.”
“I’m hungry!” he says, as if it’s an amazing discovery.
“How convenient, I just ordered you the prawns.”
“The frogs?”
“The PRAWNS!”
“I don’t have any fucking idea of what he just said. I’m all fucked up.” He makes eye contact with me. “I’m sorry, I was just talking to myself, not to you.”
“That’s okay, Captain. I ORDERED YOU THE P-R-A-W-N-S.”
“Didn’t you just fucking say that?”
“I did. I thought you didn’t hear me.”
“What?”
I start to explain again, until I notice the Captain’s grin sneaking out from under his bone-white mustache.
“You heard me, didn’t you?”
His smile confirms my suspicion. “WOOOOOOOP WOOOOOP WOOOOOOO!” he hoots. “She has a nice leg, WOOOOP WOOOOP!”
I follow his eyes to a waitress at the table next to ours.
“Good news, pal: it’s got a twin.” I laugh.
“I’m a dirty old man. Well, just call me DOM then,” he says, taking a sip of his wine. “I’m hungry!”
“Good, I ordered you the prawns.”
“The who?”
© 2011
Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher© 2011