Archive for February, 2011

February 18, 2011

by jhon baker

Today, everything is beautiful.

the weather is beautiful, the sky is beautiful, the hum of the IBM Selectric III is beautiful, Chopin’s Nocturnes are beautiful, my wife is beautiful, my wife is beautiful, and there is nothing else.

February 17, 2011

by jhon baker

everything looks ugly today.

February 15, 2011

have the mother effin flu tuesday

by jhon baker

Charlie Chaplin died on my first birthday. I don’t remember if there was  a pall over the celebration or for that matter, if there was a celebration of any measure besides the obvious, Christmas.

I’ve been getting sick for the past few days and today am full blown – too headachey and tired to write worth a damn, mainly posting to let the people I owe letters to that I haven’t forgotten them. I will write soon, this week in fact – just not today.

February 15
and I sober from
valentines day, sober from
cards revealing love
and whatnot
sober from peanuts specials
sober from cupcakes
sober from closeness
sober from rich dinners
prepared and consumed
with bread

 – unfinished, Hoc Scripsi

February 14, 2011

Happy Birthday Gregory Heins

by jhon baker

oh, and it’s Valentines day too.

@font-face { font-family: “MS 明朝”;}@font-face { font-family: “MS ゴシック”;}@font-face { font-family: “MS ゴシック”;}@font-face { font-family: “Cambria”;}@font-face { font-family: “Century Schoolbook”;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Cambria; }h3 { margin: 10pt 0in 0.0001pt; page-break-after: avoid; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Calibri; color: rgb(79, 129, 189); }span.Heading3Char { font-family: Calibri; color: rgb(79, 129, 189); font-weight: bold; }.MsoChpDefault { font-family: Cambria; }div.WordSection1 { page: WordSection1; }

a love poem

 

I caught your glance

and offered a small gift

which you refused.

an apple,

a token, to toe

the water.

another month and you would acquiesce

to my teenaged display of nerves.

I was twenty-three

you were soft and scared

and thinking I’d meant to use you

but I’d love you instead.

you humored me

answering every question

I had.

 

you were twenty-five

and I knew, over coffee

that first night

at Denny’s,

our life would be braved

unknown

together.

Tags: ,
February 13, 2011

Oh, what a weekend.

by jhon baker

Every muscle making a fist, the half muscles left my leg twitching and contracting, expanding in rapid succession; spasm is what I am talking about but wording my way around.
Listening to Fryderyk Chopin – Nocturnes, Op. 15: No. 3 in G Minor at present.

drinking well made coffee from a comic mug and helping my son write Valentines for his class and a special one for a special girl. He will unfortunately be ill for the party tomorrow. Poor kid.

I am leaving this post unfinished and later am going to take a muscle relaxer while I sit down at my typewriter and write my fellows – return the letters received, work on my newest poetry, and try to start writing a play for Theater Undreground [sic]. I know the play I want to write, I’ve been thinking about it for years, and they’ve asked several times, the least I can do it try.

You’ve seen this one before unless you haven’t – I think it fits in with Jingles newest theme so I will place my name there as well.
Tired and no excuse to be so.

Let the coffee flow, flow, flow and the cigarettes smoke curl in query marks, curl into hearts, curl into clouds of what children lay and witness.

@font-face { font-family: “Cambria Math”;}@font-face { font-family: “Cambria”;}@font-face { font-family: “Century Schoolbook”;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Cambria; }.MsoChpDefault { font-family: Cambria; }div.WordSection1 { page: WordSection1; }

3 poems fitting harmoniously together
1
third rate diner
writing poems on
paper napkins;
inadvertently blowing my nose into
the most recent.
2
modern medicine
modern medicine is/was always a marvel
no matter the year
until we need for the end
then it’s simply horrible.
3
loving
such good loving
such good nurturing,
such good loving,
such good fucking.
 – Hoc Scripsi
%d bloggers like this: