UnkleBob's 2015 Napo Thread

[cookala]

hi UnkleBob! back for more - standouts for me are the story beneath God and the Glulams, [I]embedding himself in every part of her being./ Soon, she grew weary of his loud mouth breathing,/ and the inflection of his rs.[I] is awesome sauce and She asks him about his strategy for getting out/ of parking tickets and life in general./I should know this, he thinks - made me smile. nice placement in the poem. Gary Busey. heh. Pickled Oak made me sad. This is an important thing to write about - this country really , really, really needs to do more to take care of its vets. 'nuf said.

[UnkleBob]

Cookala, Thanks for reading. I wish I had spent a little more time on Pickled Oak. Our Hero Worship of veterans ends very suddenly (basically after they have their reunion show).

One dogear in front of the other -
one dogear behind the other.
An inch to the right.
An inch to the left.
At the perfect angle,
a form appears, shuffles
around the unraked leaves.
Otherwise, it is just pine,
nails, concrete.

[Sorella]

Unkle,
Spent a riot of a time reading new and older stuff in your excellent thread. Some standouts:

Spruce Pine Fir:

he pens a long love poem about the power
of prayer and the wickedness of idleness.
He does not know whom he loves,
and the poem shows it - being mainly
about the rise and fall of an archbishop
in the late 1400s.

Rebar Gr 60:

Bored. Why don't we do anything fun?

We could pretend to be go-karts
and circle the chasms of an infinite-shaped track.

Masonite Siding:

so he had taken to the older woman
like a cut nail takes to soft wood,

embedding himself in every part of her being.

----
And in God in the Glulams, I am wondering about pastors and choir boys.. but it might just be a quiet un-sinister poem as well.

I love the mystery you always create -- and the wonderful setting of nails and wood as a backdrop to the thread poems.

Sorella

[UnkleBob]

Thank you so much Sorella. I have some catching up to do over the next week. We moved this weekend and were without internet or really time.

Nothing makes sense.
The stars
or the constellation of craters
around the equator.
Not science fiction
nor the mathematics of contradictions.

My beloved archaeopteryx,
please forgive my slackness.
These old femurs
have fossilized beyond their years.

[GreaterMandalaofUselessness]

Hey UnkleBob,

I've been enjoying catching up on your thread. Lots to like here.

#5 Rebar Gr 60 on the Strip I don't know that I quite get the set up: where they are and why they are walking (possibly because the title means nothing to me) but I do love this response to the question "Why don't we do anything fun?"

We could pretend to be go-karts
and circle the chasms of an infinite-shaped track.

God in the Glulams - I'm a sucker for an off-beat Biblical parallel poem.

Masonite Sliding circa 2001 - "she had left him in pickle jars" may be just on odd (to me) turn of phrase, does it mean: she had stocked up on pickle jars for him? or was it actually a grisly murder? (given what follows the latter seems unlikely). The last three stanzas are really good. "he had taken to the older woman / like a cut nail takes to soft wood" is a standout. Great details about what she doesn't like about him. I was pleased to see a the happy ending!

Spruce pine fir S2 sounds very much like an anxiety dream. I loved S3: the love poem that is "mainly/about the rise and fall of an archbishop / in the late 1400s. But he sends to her anyway". Great ending.

Pickled oak Loved the disclaimer at the end.

No 2. Dense One of my favorites here, but I can find little to say about, other than quote the bits I like, which is all of it. And anyway, how can a poem that contains the line: "My beloved archaeopteryx" be anything but good. I guess I read it as being about old age.

Nearly at the half way line. Keep on keeping on!

-Matt

[UnkleBob]

Thanks Matt, I am trying to catch up from the lost weekend. If you ever have decided to walk between Old Vegas and the Strip, you would realize it was a terrible decision.

She said it three times fast.
Then, without warning, as if
Chicken Little had come screaming
around the corner, she said it again.

The boy in a blue coat and in a blue hat
and with funny yellow galoshes
held his finger to his nose
and made a noise as if something
smelled really terrible.

When she said it again,
he pushed her face into the glass insert.
Her breath fogged the window.

[delph_ambi]

Richly textured poetry, each one a good read, vivid storytelling. Fave at the moment is 'Spruce Pine Fir'.

[PClem]

Masonite - This jumps from one wickedly good scene/metaphor to another - like a cut nail takes to soft wood really got me.
Cull - The title couple with the noting of specific times and, oh, for God's Sake, Busey, and then, we all need the beer and cigarette.
Pickled Oak - I was expecting something more explicitly dark and, yes, that's how it starts and then it goes somewhere seemingly very different, but is it really? Like it circles inward, somewhere deep inside.

[UnkleBob]

Thanks delph and PClem for taking the time to read my poems. Delph, I will be digging into your poems in next couple days and PClem I will get over and catch up.

The prisoner beats the hickory
with a chain. Four times.
Five. Then six. They slide
the next board in front of him.
Again, he whips the hickory
with the chain. Four times.
Five. Then six. On the next,
board, he skips one,
two, and three and goes
straight for the finish.

Two nights later, the head
of the prison program
calls him into his office,
tells him he has been slacking,
only beating the boards
three times when he is
supposed to beat them six times.

The prisoner nods intently,
promises to beat things better.
In the future,
I will beat them seven,
eight, nine.

Later that night,
he thinks of a woman
in a sundress. The first
touch of her skin against his,
her smell, her hair, her lips.
Tomorrow, he will knock wood.

[Arlene]

all boards and tree and bone and fossil, geometry and carpentry, with emotions fighting through like, i dunno, dandelion...really nice and somewhat scary...

[UnkleBob]

Thanks Arlene for the kind words.

In the evenings
before sunset
but just barely.

[Angela]

Unklebob,

I just fluffed you up like crazy and the PFFA ate it up when I tried to post! Gaaa! (Note to self: ALWAYS C so I can P the fluff if PFFA decides to snack.) Round two. Ding-ding.

I was and still am drawn to Cull. I think the N is bored out there with her empty beer and smokes. She wants something else. Some other, other. But Gary Busey? Now, I would choose a time (In the way way back) with Mel Gibson. Oh, now he had the hair and the grin for me. Gary Busey just has too many teeth or something! Ha!
I really, really want you to spill the beans on your intentions with this piece. Pretty please??

Han(d?)scraped Hickory was interesting. Beating the wood throughout already had my eyebrow twitching. The ending was a wonderful surprise. He is gonna put in some work tomorrow! Ha!

Lots of good stuff here. I hope you don't mind that I jumped around. I go for the titles that spark me. I will swing back around.

Angela~

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

You've got some good stuff here.

"Hanscraped Hickory & Other Tales" alone was worth the price of admission and more. Great development of character through the imagery and action.

"Cedar Shake Shim Shingle" is a spiritual brother of "Hanscraped Hickory & Other Tales" and they work well together.

BrianIs AtYou

[UnkleBob]

Thanks Angela & Brian. It is a lot to keep up with during Napo. I appreciate you guys taking the time to read through some of my poems.

Your father,
your mother,
your great Aunt Laura,
who held you first,
after your father
and mother and reminds
you of someone from TV,
and her husband, Leonard,
the former hardware store owner
would like you to remember
the dog Uncle Jim
had when you were a kid.
It was a beagle, they thought.
You should know.
You loved that dog.

[UnkleBob]

Red.
And Yellow.
She turns green.
He turns blue.
Instant attraction.

Two people meet
in a subway car.
One says to the other,
Do you know such and such?
Guy says, Yes, but why the long face.
Both forget to duck.

Five days later,
rain splatters against her balcony.
She smokes a cigarette from the couch.
Code violation 54.2.
All the subways in all the world,
she thinks.