Ting-A-Ling

A penny carefully wedged in braids
Shiny and new but tiny
Just a few could know
Repressing laughter until
Her turn at the board
The penny jumped for it
Ding, ting-a-ling, roll
Nobody could not know
Then since Patty Braids
Blushed with shame and rage
It couldn't be brushed off
Mr. Instructor called for the culprit
To even the score
Embarrassing the boy not nearly as much
With a penny on his nose 'til the bell
And it only fell once

JM

Won World

Firmly enmeshed in us at times
Common seems real
We feel and hear the same roar
Jets flying over
Even if every head does not tilt
Experience ricochets
Off focus, dreams and covers
Distance, proximity
Quicker than a rock or sunlight

JM

Forehead Lines

Taking Medicine A Sin?

Half Agree With Split

Blackout Worse At Night

Countdown Begins In Two Days

Hee He JM

Mistaken Sacrifice

Tonight a bomb went off in my head
I thought to wrap around it
Like heroes do a hand grenade
A protection for anyone near
The concussion sustained in only
One brain for now
Blew up
Detonated
The inert case of fear and hate
Carried by all who lift it up
Remains inside and out, receding
Encroaching to fill what crack is left
When something else
Love?
Water?
Blows up perfectly undead
Detonates a reshuffling of energy
Outside my hero lust to affect
The schrapnel of exploded fear
It shatters my mistake

JM

From Here To Here

Way too sad to sit inside
Walking I look away
From headlights, eyes and windows
Kind of tricky, sometimes I miss
To stare at something human
Over my gut I watch my shoes
Step, step, clumping along
I hear the walk go quiet
Wandering into residential
Finally the sadness leaves
I don't try to chase it
Back at home I close my eyes
In a chair by a lamp
Gratitude has room to speak
I hear my simple comfort
And think of making tea

JM

Ghost Call

Ghost Call

A persistent no-answer comes
To the question "are you there"
Or another "can you hear me"
When through the hedge leaves, whispers
Turn into calls, voices bounce off walls
A special cadence of speech collects
The hazy volume wavers
Almost patterns reach out
To a persistent no-answer
An almost functional, actually desperate
Fear of the not yet known
When confusion remains between
The source and who would answer

JM

Allow 4-6

Allow 4-6

I'm a late bloomer
If I bloom at all
Clear at the end of Fall
Maybe busting through snow crust
My flowers are unremarkable
Serving their intended purpose
Flexing which seed they are to promote
The puzzler is my soil
Moving with the weather sometimes
While almost opposite others
I bloom which is enough
Unless patience is too tough today
Then I have to wait

JM

Arrange Meant

Arrange Meant

Memories are fine and useful
A trap where you lose part of the day
Sinking too long into what went on
The years collected on dust around you
All the fine and useful experience
Hanging on a wall or in that car
The look of the kitchen after meals
Especially at leaving or redecorating
The urge is strong to speed along
Listening to the way things were
Making changes heavy to move around
Into more useful and fine memories

JM

Reading/Show

Reading/Show

A woman walked in with covered head
A long heavy black dress
She sat to the left in front of me
Where I could see the silhouette
Of her small chin pointing at the stage
I tried not to stare
In just enough light to put a glow
On her full lips, round cheeks
And her brown eyes twinkling
As each participant, even me,
Got up to bounce light beams
Off ourselves and into the open face
Of the woman with the covered head

JM

Grim By Default

Grim By Default

These artificial means
Are easily as bad
As artificial pleasants
Though they fool more thoroughly
The face reflecting my facade.
To play at being angry
Serious business, that.
To gather those reflections
I must be mad.
When all but sometimes
I can portray glad or contented
Mock expressions

JM

Dead Day 9/11

Dead Day 9/11

Another day got famous
All of them have various claims
This one is shame and fear
With the strongest being hate
Blood lust, killing justified.
We remember the day together
Separated by what it takes to kill
Some pay life, others taxes.
Very many lose mental health
A psychic virus bites into them
Penetrating on each anniversary.
So loud, patriotic and grievous
In enough decades it will die

JM

Times Fly

Times Fly

We have more time than patience
Waiting is an art and a torture
A fly died slowly in my studio apartment
Neither of us had anywhere to go
She finally landed on my shirt
No more flying, she crawled
I killed her quick, impatient from
Two days of missed attempts
Though we were kind of roomates
There for a while, stuck inside

JM

Shuttered

Shuttered

I shut down time
Like a curtain on my window
Closed my view on moving shade
I made a stillness appear
Slowly as my heart bent light
Breathing still, I applied still sight
A race of emotion then
Urges to think in words
The clock returned, I heard
A squeak in the wind
With my chest full and lively
With shade still travelling
I opened up time
Like a curtain on my window

JM

Ill Delusion

Ill Delusion

A moment of clarity tells me
Which self is tragedy
Where the details marking reality
Are collected by certain
And uncertain phases of being
Which self is strong today
Clarity can't take too long
A little bliss and a taste
Of illusion belong with
A self surviving scrutiny
And accurate humility

JM

Audio Mirror

Audio Mirror

They know my name
At the bottom of my breath
In the sound of cooling bricks
Are whispers chattering
Not all repeat myself to me
Not every television bleed
Is a conversation
Some though, enough to hear
Whisper or mumble my name
And I know it's just me
Reflexively I'm thinking "Here I am"

JM

An Experience To Write About

An Experience...

What I saw on the way to the zoo-
Wild animals between the cars,
Cramped into the odd tree
And green spots by the stores,
Hiding in silt of sidewalk cracks
And just plain flying.
At the zoo I saw
More variety in the cages
A little less wild though.
With people all over
The feature attraction,
Out of their cars and almost
Naked in just their clothes,
I sat down knowing mine
Would barely cover my gawking
On the way to the zoo again.

JM

Camp Pain

Camp Pain

Noisey haloes on political pulpits
Glowing about their destinies
Never showing hell they make
Promising to stop ourselves
By force if necessary
"We shall impose new limits"
And "Work to undo our mistakes"
Then each meek vote shall inherit
The worthiest political preacher

JM

I'm Afraid Of The Lone Man

I'm Afraid Of The Lone Man

Just to fit in and get along
I learned to avoid
Approaching a man by himself
Sufficient, perhaps pondering
Or drunk
It wouldn't matter, it is alone
That counts
I saw the looks he drew
Resolved myself to stay inside
Or among friends
Yet here I am and not that long
More and more alone
And I am him, I like him now
Walking alone, waiting for the bus
Where the scattered shyness
When I was a kid
Has been gathering together

JM

Sleep Cells

Sleep Cells

Sleeping was tough last night
So the morning gets here early
With my door cracked on sunrise
Birds precede the rising traffic
Giving up the bed for now
And jealous of the workers
I watch the day get started
Through open shades the skies brighten
In bare feet with coffee awake
I know a nap will happen later.

JM

Fresh Ground Words

Fresh Ground Words

Between force and release
My words are not grease
When life is dry I grind
As phrase and pieces of idea
Find new shapes slower
More painfully, waiting
For something wet or living
To swell with what they said

JM

Been

I have been writing a little less. Posting fewer
I have slow days.
I tell you now with vigorous unction
There will be another day!
And another poem...

Post-it Pome

Post-it Pome

Short like strobe ads
Quick as a bullet
Sizzling through before
You know I'm hit
Skull wise crumpling
Over buckling knees
Heading for slow stones
The edge of a short sheet

JM

Inside Job

Inside Job

The attempted theft
Of our way of life
By means of fear
Is not so effective
As theft by war spending
Theft by ignoring our ending way of life
And worst of it we wonder
What way is that to live?
What living way requires war
And what defense is necessary
When we steal from ourselves
Generosity?

JM

Aground

Aground

When it's too beautiful to walk
Just sitting without talk or traffic
Only waiting as face after face
Turn looking from their jog
From their stroll, their car window
Glancing some surely notice
A contrary lack of speed, dozing
In a tree tickling breeze

JM

Onionesque

Kollege Killer attacks gun rights



Recently a few famous rampagers have conspired to amend our right to bear arms. While not killing gun control advocates, the students at several schools have left the job to us. As licenced and current gunowners it's up to us to be the new guard, the new wave of rampagers.
Fortune has provided us with a reason for anti-gun forces to collect themselves and that's our opportunity to strike. FIGHT BACK FELLOW GUN NUTS!!
Let us lead this lost country out of the non violent future that seems to be all too inevitable.

From Underground

From Underground

Nobody needs to know it all
I didn't but never stall
Impressing myself with clods of earth
Like these can replace, even worth giving
My family or yours, odd worth adding
My friend I almost know, sadly
How punishing can be too slow, unkind
When ignorance is speaking now
I hear your voice like mine
Somehow we both may be clods or clouds

JM

Mortal Clouds

Mortal Clouds

Steam became a cloud today
Like that needs to be said
My steps condensed and rain fell up
Downtown the streets were wet
Along another line of sight
A bell was tolled or maybe rang
Vibration sang to tell a code
So writing this is only a bone
Hiding in the cold waiting for steam

JM

The Day Kurt Vonnegut Died

The Day Kurt Vonnegut Died

By the way it was yesterday
I only heard it today, dead
So now I know I'll very likely
Have to wait until we're both dead
When we have more in common
I can meet him then
Although I was in New York just last month
Manhatten at that
All I saw were famous faces
We may have met already
Yet his books met me young
Returning through age delightfully
He gave me sage advice
Encouraging sight beyond my eyes
This reader and all the rest
Under a lamp at night with Kurt

JM -4-12-7

Ghoul Curse

Ghoul Curse

Happy trails good-bye
I wrote your death today
So exhausted, I saw you panting
Words were less and less then
Turned to simple breath, lighter
Wispy and gone, I lit a wick
The steady flame said nothing
Your mouth stayed open
Your eyes still not closed
I tipped the wax to coat them
Yelling my own breath loud
I danced around and on your shadow
Stepping you back to dirt

JM

Looking Away

Looking Away

On the farm too long I guess
Now missing the sound of wind
In tall grass and stronger in pine trees
Missing the slow sunset the orange dirt
After the trucks stop, after a rain
The smell of heavy dew at dawn
And a ruckus of birdsongs
In the city too long I guess
Those rumbling hours of day traffic
Sirens, mufflers and car stereos nightly
How I yearned for those signs of life
Looking from a farmhouse window

JM

For Boo

For Boo

I told gramdpa kitty
I'd be just fine, see
I've been in the woods.
From shadow to shine to city
I've seen the various kinds of vine
The good the bad and the deadly
Don't worry for me old man
And he purred and tried to explain
The danger and wonder
So I listened a while, though I think
He knew
And we shared a homemade moment or two

JM

Know: Ah

Know: Ah

A rainbow was a promise
This poem is prophecy
I am building without plans
One to come, home two
All to hear, three, four
Few before then after
Safety under the arc
Not yet appeared
Yet not unseen
A prophecy from between
My words to future hope;
Some water will be clean

JM

ROTC

ROTC

Is there a safe school
To send my child to
Where dealers don't push violence?
A drug that promises honor
Uniformed thugs who smile
Obvious liars
Really Obvious Terror Creators
Reeking with pride
Pretending they are a better Dad
Slimy grins and secret handshakes
Lies and bribes enticing
New adults to learn old war
Rotten to the corps
Give us safety from you

JM

Not Quite Dry

Not Quite Dry

The sun wobbles in a puddle
Close to the curb outside
Jumping in slivers on the wall
Next to my door I stand
I am not inside just now
Curving my neck to the sky
As many clouds go by and one
Near the sun and the puddle,
When I look back down, is only water
Shallow on a bed of street soot

JM

Over Sleep

Over Sleep

Before there was a day ahead
Before I got behind
The hope of every morning rising
Rested in my bed
That graceful pat of comfort
Lightly on my hair
Enough to send my dreams again
Asleep without a care

JM

Search

Search

Looking again for the middle
I must be edgy
Why is this not comfortable
Where I spend my life
Somewhere else, not edgy
Seems like what I need
And looking ceases when I see
The everywhere is here
The middle is not running

JM

Forever

Just one more thing
There is no real end. Just overriding beginnings.
This spring will be nice.
Gardening, hiking and birdwatching.
ENJOY!

Pivot

A time to leave again
A feeling of not still here
Not yet there
And this is when, right now
The sense of time is slow
The sense of space is deeper
With more details
A feeling of short, shrinking air
Returns at dreams of yonder
Or dreams of leaving behind

JM

February 8th

A pencil breaks in cold weather
My back is sore again
Unkind cold, unkindled pile,
Snow on the scrap wood
So inside is where this is
With socks under my legs and radio
Sunken like a wet log but dry
Into the cushions where soon
My legs will itch to walk outside...

Damn the wind chill
I brace into the crunching tracks
The wrinkling face of winter

JM

Travellin' Lately

Hi from me.
I've been keeping my home in a few suitcases this past month.
I left the fair city of Omaha on February 1st. The new house of hospitality there is in the capable stewardship of my Catholic Worker friends. Spent some time in Iowa City at Kitty Nation, a house with five bossy and irresistable cats.
This is my second week in New York. It's a nice change from the quiet of the midwest but I've been able to find plenty of peace and serenity right here local. I love being able to walk to shops and mini attractions. There is too much to do here and that suits me fine. I have another week before the train is scheduled to trundle myself and my good friend back to Iowa.
I have a bunch of poems but none strike me as chopready quality, whatever that is.
Happy March forth. (fourth)

Hole, Empty, Change

I can't know what another person
(knows, feels, experiences)
And no one else can know
How that chunk of star hit me
They might see the hole it left
But how is that feeling it?
Even the exact dimensions
Caused by an identical star chunk
Could not be the same as my life
Or another who got stuck with a hole.
The emptiness may resemble another
Although another empty, holy person
Is known by being
I cannot be that as well as this

JM

Blazes

chopready

Blazes

I blot the books that taught me
Through the ink I write
Sold a lot of what I bought
Through the night I think
I strike the fire, pages thick
The smell of written smoke
I blow and watch the embers catch
Then catch a little back
Smearing on the student page
All my wrong and rage
To clot and blot it into me
And chance another fire
Out of my cage to dance

JM

Lower Calling

chopready

Lower Calling

Told lower now, the case for love,
A proof too large when held above
From this down here and we who crawl
A voice is speaking but not for all
Alive told lower and fewer words
Dead told lies to fewer herds
Then God ran off, took to the sky
Left all that glory not wondering why
For love
To go ahead of us
For love
To come behind

JM