A Poet’s Style


A lawn chair
On the forearm.

On the shoulder, the
Of birds.

Melody for a toy piano
On the dorsal of the hands.


No shoes
But the idea of shoes.


A table crowded with empty bowls.


The cosmos on the lips,
I breath it in through nostrils,
Pull its lint out of my belly button.

In Conclusion-

These poems that are intolerable
Improbable poems in yellow pants
At dusk in a ruined shirt staring at the future.

20 thoughts on “A Poet’s Style

  1. That’s wonderful how you created the subheadings – the tattoos, clothes, appetites, metaphysics, and in conclusion like five different poems and The Metaphysics one…wow, that is something – combining the cosmos and bodily parts – the lips, nostrils, and belly button, just incredible to read. I try to do something similar in the morning, a sort of meditation, to breath in through my nostrils and imagine that it’s god’s blessing or whatever and then exhaling what I imagine to be my negative thinking.

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    1. Thanks Steve. I do the same as far as meditation. No super structured sitting sessions, just a few minutes here and there. Seem to do me good. I’ve always liked how Walt Whitman made no distinction between the soul and the body. I guess that’s my metaphysics.

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      1. somedays i wake up and for some reason or no reason i wonder if there is no god, no soul, no spirit, no nothing, just our birth, physical bodies, and death. this lady at work today attributed it to frequencies, that some days we love listening to a certain kind of music and other days we don’t…..ditto for god and souls and what not. the trick is to recognize when the frequency changes and adjust. one constant for me is booze. that mellows the sting of the change when it’s too sudden. i don’t know if that makes any sense?


      2. That makes sense to me. What’s the book the pilot is reading in Picard…The Tragic Sense of Life. It’s by a Spanish philosopher ( I won’t try to spell his name). I picked it up once, but didn’t get really far. But I hear you on the mortality thoughts, sometimes they just are there. I think I’ve done myself some good trying to frame it as a pantheist. But maybe I’m just trying to cover up what really can’t

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      3. i’ve been watching Picard. My girlfriend is a big trek fan and she turned me onto it, but i must not be focusing because i don’t remember what book he’s reading. pantheist? i never really looked that word up. i guess it’s believing in multiple gods? makes sense or nontheist – believing in no gods.


      4. i never really watched star trek until Picard. i mean i had see some of the older ones with Spock, but i like this new series too. it’s great to watch something and get so absorbed to not think about death for 60 minutes.


      5. I grew up on Star Trek and thought that I’d be exploring the galaxy by the time I was an adult. Didn’t work out that way. And now I do mind numbing office work. But I do find the show uplifting. And it’s good to lose yourself for an hour.

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      6. Well, in a way, you do explore the galaxy Bob. It definitely comes through in your poetry and that’s a great thing.

        Me too, I do mind numbing office work and somehow it’s sapped all my motivation to walk and write. I used to walk for hours, sometimes no where in particular and the movement or something inspired interesting things to write about. I wonder if it’s some sort of acupuncture? Feet pounding pavement activating some part of our mind? I gotta start that up again.


      7. Thanks Steve. And I really think you are on to something with the acupuncture and walking. Just the motion of walking works well for me. Work has been overwhelming for me lately. And it, as you said, saps all motivation. It’s tough to write when it’s like this. Spring is almost here, and I will definitely be walking more.


  2. I’ve just read this again. Love the atmosphere you’ve created. Especially the metaphysics stanza, “the cosmos on the lips.” But also the scene you set beforehand. Like this open free transmuting moment one may enjoy with all the notions it offers during a moment of sunshine on a lawn chair ☀️

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  3. I stumbled on this yesterday. Surprised I missed it. Bob, it has to be one of my favourites. I love everything about this poem! Everything. Carried it through the day yesterday and picked up again this morning. I couldn’t help but jot a version in my notebook (Tattoo – a windblown anchor made of feathers and straw, burned somewhere on the back where others can see it but the poet cannot. He believes it is a stone welded to the earth but knows otherwise…).

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