Sunday, August 19, 2012

August 19, 2012. Here is blog #2. Above is my "poet face" at 7000 feet just outside of Jerome, Arizona..

This acrostic poem is in free verse, and appeared previously in Flutter Poetry Journal, thanks to editor Sandy Benitez.


Later, the cheese melts we abandon to
Omnipresent ants. Mark high the
Sun, set course for the swamp
Through a tall bamboo thicket that

Inside is an anti-forest, green khaki canopy
Nearly blots out all light. Stalk-surrounded, we

Tiptoe along, and within quiet minutes we
Have become confused; lush summer exudates a heat
Envelope to drown us like bagged pups.

Concentric paths we traverse, humbled,
Angry blame thrown as we pass marks that re-appear.
Now worry turns to panic; we thrash
Empty-handed through the yellow maze, fight to

Break through verdant mirrors to a door unknown,
Reaching for a exit handle not there, not
Able to find the hole at end of the fecund
Kaleidoscope. In smothers of anguish
Extreme, we stumble dumbly out into pasture dusk, saved. 

I write a lot of haiku, sometimes in a series like this one, which appeared previously in Bear Creek Haiku:


Valley of the Sun
baseball tourney to be played
five games in five days

catch the Painted Rocks
boulders piled like God's own dung
Native petroglyphs

up early today
breeze gives me a warm greeting
"one hundred degrees"

Verde River Days
folks fish in the green lagoon
meet Smokey the Bear

"Population: strange"
high times in Jerome today
mountain Vieux Carre

manager is late
Diablo Stadium dark
spooks us in some way

four a.m. sounds of
interstate jackhammer thuds
not my job, thank God

curandero guide
Boyce Thompson Arboretum
we hike the high trail

hitless in two games
wooden bat is not to blame
stray gray cat knows so

Gila County ride
such incredible vistas
I can see for miles

Besh-ba-Gowah site
archaeology in Globe
climb staven ladders
antique mall again
no, no shotglasses this time
hard back book of John

Celebrate two hits?
I don't really give two shits
lost the game again

black hawks gliding low
scouting saguaro brush hills
sagely seeking prey

copper mine slag piles
transformations of nature
pennies for your thoughts

La Casita meal
comida Mexicana
green chiles con meats

one more guided tour
Colossal Cave Mountain Park
not so claustro, me

What about baseball?
lost four games in five days
nothing left to say

Finally, a sad poem from my first book, "Whiskey, Whimsy, & Rhymes" (2009):

In Quietude

In nausea in a hung-over bed,
In stacks of books still unread,
In reverie of morning’s dreams,
In contemplation of future dread,
In reams of film not yet seen,
Indifferent to the tasks ahead, I’m
Inconsequential with an aching head.

In an estate sale three years late,
In belongings I can’t bear to pack,
In furniture I can’t move yet,                       
In my mother's house that can’t be sold,
In an elder sister’s gentle scolds;

and, you know,
we argued constantly,
and were never really close
until the end.

We were too much alike;
half of me has flown.

 John Lambremont, Sr.

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