Fable

January 18, 2026 BobAbstract, poem, poetry, prose-poem, writing22 Comments

We lost the moon in the war. No one remembers the name of the war. Kids spray-paint the nicknames of the moon. Only they know its whereabouts. Rivers are an expression of gravity. Spines too.

The paperwork, we burned it. I thought we should save it. But you said we should write it down afterwards how we remember it.

There is so much strangeness to this day. Like asking clouds not to comb their hair into astronauts, it can’t be done. Butterflies drink the same wine as volcanoes.

We met again, years later. To sort out what we remember. It was mostly poetry.

Lines Dashed Before a Meeting at Work

January 11, 2026 BobAbstract, poem, poetry, walking, writing22 Comments

When a dream breaks the fourth wall.
Like the footsteps of red autumn leaves

Determined by the wind’s simplicity. At night
So much of what we haven’t done 

Lies awake. And wonders. The walker
Visits roam. A ghost spiritually can no longer tie its shoes.

All ghosts have untied shoes.
Which is a tripping hazard when going through walls.

Handwriting is a cosmology,
An archipelago of inklings

Like the orbits of our footprints
As we walk through puddles. 

Because the calendar still has one foot in poetry,
Outcomes, whoever simple in the moment,

Over time gain in complexity. The horizon is always
Present-tense,

Yet the clouds like coins
In a time machine.

Here and There

January 5, 2026 BobAbstract, poem, poetry, writing18 Comments

I ranged 
I mapped crescents 
Abolished the number one

Ridiculous poetry 
On imaginary stilts 
In a suit of daffodils
Hurdles an inchworm
And chews on Saturn's rings

Suddenly here
Is everywhere 
For all of us

I plant a tree
First its shadow
Then its velocity
 
See you there!

Wear and Tear

October 19, 2025 BobAbstract, poem, poetry, writing9 Comments

The cloud-work for a tune. Cloud-work as formal
Attire. In a way, autumn moves away from

One, notice the red shift in the leaves. We
Talk galaxies and the cosmos. Of the hourglass. 

The dance of masks.
And how the dance strips away the mask.

Infinity is pretty. The sofa is 
From a garage sale. A soul is a crew of words.

Goofing Around

October 15, 2025 Bobpoem, poetry, writing19 Comments

The night at the junkyard when all the headlights were kicked in, and a beautiful
Anarchy tasted like ice cream. And salad days, too! 

We painted stars on the back of the cardboard factory, 
And cut out rectangles of cardboard and wrote poems 
On them. We posted and mailed them to addresses we 
Randomly picked out of a 1993 phone book. 

We endeavored for consciousness and more life. We took to the
Summer nights like an avalanche takes to interlopers.
Or a kid on a bicycle to a homemade ramp. 

We seasoned the fields with our idealistic meanderings,
And filled the distances with our starry beards. Burned all
The self-help books.

Poem

October 11, 2025October 14, 2025 BobAbstract, cosmos, poem, poetry, writing15 Comments

The area of a cold autumn
Wind in addition to 

A crescent-colored inkling

Equals some kind of infinity.

It’s squares and circles minus
Any parachutes,

And flighty parallelograms,

The wealth of a clown, the diameter
Of a déjà vu,

A rain puddle of kisses
On the pavement’s cheeks and ears,

And between the stars
The gossamer of the cosmos.

Three Poems

October 8, 2025 BobAbstract, poem, poetry, writing13 Comments

Ditty

Poetry unpauses
What can’t be paused.
If successful, implausibly.   


For an Hour

Just wavelengths. 
Just a covenant of daydreams.

No words.
Fingers pinching the wind.


Poem

A cratered pendant
The moon

Has a mass equivalent to all 
The windows open
In the world.

Here and there 
A forlorn afternoon
The heart

But it’s present nonetheless
The ache of genius
Autumn.

As Is Poem

October 4, 2025 BobAbstract, poem, poetry, writing14 Comments

Because it’s like a vintage
Washing machine, a poetic-o-matic. 

A coin operated 
Hieroglyphic. 

A wandering in cahoots 
With soil and sun.

A trouble that follows
Me, sewn right into the ambulation.

The running of the planets
Into fate and life and a cup of coffee.

Short Poems

October 1, 2025 BobAbstract, poem, poetry, writing15 Comments

1.
The syllogisms that hold up silence
Are understandably invisible and 
Full of oranges and greens and yellows,
That aren’t colors at all, but the fullness
Of a late afternoon.  

2.
The wind in the trees 
Picks up the wishes that will one day become a new cosmos.

3.
A bit of blown leaves holler at the chimney.
Afterward, now below, the blown leaves caught in the chain link.

On the abandoned apartment building
Someone spray painted gothic arches.

4.
Forever is a verb
With clouds for hair

And coat buttons 
Of highways
Germinating into the 
Sky

An eclipse
Is the mailing address
Of dark matter

Forever is the typeface
Of letting go

5.
The rain sounds out the road, into the windy streets,
The cosmos of walking.

That’s why there are stars,
Over and over, love is something new.

It’s Different Than Prose

September 27, 2025 Bobpoem, poetry, prose-poem, writing15 Comments

I don’t know how it ends. I imagine it will end with a hook and a hat and a sigh. Like at the end of the day.

Or a treatise will be inaugurated by the passing clouds.

Written on a wall of the bus station, where you wait for the interstate, “The baritones at the rodeo / Dance for the baronesses.” Accompanied by artwork. In black marker.

Everywhere complexity experiencing the waves and particles and chemical bonds, electricity and gravity.

The questions of infinity are no nearer completion. Thankful for that. Sitting on the bus seat, counting the landscapes. Dreaming or being dreamed. Probably both.

Menu

naïve haircuts

poem