May Post: The crows are alarmed

The crows are alarmed at our cat Stumpy. She sits on the picnic table blinking as if to say “Who are these large, black birds that are so disagreeable? Why are they picking on us? We would never attack birds that large.” Stumpy is the smallest, most aggressive cat of our five. The others stay out of sight. “It’s karma for your depredations,” I say, referring to her role as the Goddess of Doom to lizards. She looks away, pretending not to understand.

hey crows,
why all that May Day over
one small cat?
Shut up
so I can practice flute!


(c) Bob Loomis (with thanks to Linda Papanicolaou for help editing)
05-31-2011

April's Post: These paintings by dead poets

Again not much in the way of new writing this past month, so I'll post one of the poems from a work entitled Homage to Schwitters, an example of word collage writing. I and collagist Susan Jokelson are putting together a book of these, with one collage paired with each poem. Hope you enjoy this Beat-flavored work:

These paintings by dead poets of resurrected love … graceful lonely versifiers searching for antique hay in fields of unknown soldiers … bottled-up mourners laughing mightily at jokes on us … urge vote for blind politicians leading blind puppets … fill days with heartfelt gestures calling for independence for all suburban pets … cite unmistakable upsurges in efforts to attack imaginary states … say it’s all in many ways a measure of broad bandwidth sounded on tarnished trumpets applauded by amateur strumpets … we keep marching … hope for one honest sacrificial lamb chop … pound out rhythm on Native American drums … bury meat hooks in pectoral flesh … fly outward round Maypole … hope resultant warriors equal to eternal task … pray god help us please at least look good … so we can strut like cocksure dandies … so we can end loneliness with dances of redemption …

© Bob Loomis
01-06-10 / 01-23-10