Orange and Cinnamon

featured in the poetry forum June 10, 2013  :: 0 comments

Her hair in a quick up-do bun
rushing for the am rail
Captains and dommes of industry jostle
along with the flotsam and jetsam.
My purse on my arm
Your lunch bag on my lap
Not quite contained into designated spaces
How to peal and cinnamon an orange
without the expense of a dry cleaning bill
The cinnamon puffs in the air;
fine particles escape the maroon container
I close the lid
eager for the rush of citrus and cinnamon.
Tell me what you smell you command
I remember our smiles
Us walking in the sun to the park
With a peach, orange, and honey in a bag
Your patient way of guiding my hands
Cinnamon a fine dust over your breast
Freckles adorning them like a lady’s shawl
meeting the orange tang of my tongue
I take the orange from your stomach
kissing the place that held the orange
blow the excess cinnamon across your belly
inhale the scent of clean air
lightly place a section of orange
between my lips and into your mouth
You handed me the peach with a smile

* Upcoming publication in “Dampen To Bend” Coal and Femficatio Publishing 2013

editors note:

Sweet and spicy picnic pleasure; delivered with love. Nice! – mh

Jazz2

featured in the poetry forum December 12, 2012  :: 0 comments

1948
Autumn NY
Song Repetition
Jazz was
the constant equation
Parker
was Jazz
Be Bop Jazz
Linking
Parker, Porcino, Wetzel, Metome,
Harris,
Varsalona, Jacobs, LaPorta, Williams,
Salad,
Phillips, Mondello, Caplan,
Katzman,
Orloff, Smirnoff, Harris,
Russell,
Manne, Iborra, Hefti
Skit skat
Repetition
Refrain
No other
place could they meet
Maybe a
diner
Or
crowded table filled with
Fried
chicken wings, Blintzes, boiled eggs,
Pierogies, lox,
minestrone, beer, vodka,
soda,
tea, coffee, bourbon
Refrain
Repetition
Skit skat
No other
time was then
In a
closet crammed with
coats,
scarves, umbrellas,
boots,
raincoats, sweaters,
fur
wraps, cardigans
Skit skat
Refrain
Repetition
On a
stage with
Sax,
bongos, voices, hands,
Bass,
drums, French horns, guitar,
Violin,
piano, harp, trumpet, oboe
Refrain
Skit skat
Repetition

editors note:

She’s showing us the only refrain which never holds back; skit skat – thanks for that, Linn! – mh

The Professors of Jazz

February 24, 2012  :: 0 comments

The party smelled of Magic Shave “new improved smell”
Dutch Masters, weed, chicken wings, boiled eggs, and Crown Royal
shooed from the grown up talk
Now stinky foot, I’m gonna show you the right way
to listen to jazz
If you have to eat spaghetti dogs every night
Invest in some Bang and Olufson speakers
I got these on the black market
Those Danes know their speakers

Seated in the best seat
in the middle of the floor
with a big pair of earphones
This, Uncle Son said brandishing a lp cover with
Miles’ stern face staring at me
is who you listen to
I have the architects of jazz right here

He gave me a coffee mug
with a picture of the Rhine
put a capful of his whiskey in
grabbed some sugar cubes
stirred it in my cup
put some coffee
stirred that up
This, he announced
is what you drink
when you listen to
the PHD’s of Jazz

She Sounds: For Sweet Poppa D

featured in the poetry forum February 24, 2012  :: 0 comments

She sounds like sweet peach mint tea
That was stirred in the good pitcher
From the china cabinet
That is served on a tray
With tea cakes

She sounds like a
Morning on a lake
With two bamboo poles
With only one with a hook in it
And a poetry book
On a swamp boat

She sounds like breakfast
In the city debating
Pancakes or waffles
And you know that stuff
Is bad for you
But you order extra
Butter and syrup

She sounds like
An evening in a sharp suit
And an orange dress
Dancing in socks and stockings
A party of two

She sounds like she wants
To undress me
And she wants it now
With a delectable cackle
And no reason to blush

She sounds like a beginning

editors note:

Oh, yes, indeed! She sounds exactly like that! – mh

Blue Kiss

July 27, 2011  :: 0 comments

If I could describe the blue
In Monet’s lilies
It would be eclipsed by
The wrinkle in your dress
Hidden by your off-white shawl
Your mouth pressed
On my cheek in an ‘oh’ of pleasure
The after-image of your smile
Your shoes leaving an arrow
For me to follow

Blue Muse

featured in the poetry forum July 27, 2011  :: 0 comments

Monk you refused to become background noise in some tin ear
Fuck peaceful tinkering you growled while your ivory’s screamed
Take me to that place where Bird flies red
Monk anoints us and Mingus grabs you and won’t let go
Take me to the trinity of jazz and bless
until the blues is released

Jazz Instigates

featured in the poetry forum March 12, 2011  :: 0 comments

Jazz contemplates with a cigarette
Lit by a jeweled hand
Why Blue’s always sings about
Breaking up happy homes
Shit where is the happiness
In torn apart rooms
With shaded eyes
Now this music
She waves towards the quartet
They wail the same refrain with a
Little loss but no one gets hurt
Not really you see
While she writes Blue’s number
In maroon lipstick
On a linen napkin
That will be tucked in a silk shirt
Voices layered on the mirrored floor
In folding waves to delight

Blame It On The Sun
Wilton Norman Chamberlain Talks To Ray Charles Robinson

featured in the poetry forum March 2, 2011  :: 0 comments

Sharing a bottle of gold registered cognac
their cigars resting in a crystal goblet
silk knee high stocking feet resting
on a burgundy calf leather footstool

How does it feel man? You know,
when the lights stop shining on you?
I know you can’t see the lights but
damn man, you know what I mean.
when the heat stops shining on your face.

Baby, it’s like this,
you create your own sun.
Give it a name like the only woman
who didn’t love you for your money
or power, or none of that
make sure you stand
inside her smile

Gangsta Lean

featured in the poetry forum December 12, 2010  :: 0 comments

Diamond in the back
Sun roof top
Diggin the scene
With a gangsta lean roof

On the stroll near
the 1 hr motel no tell
Dos dinero para pinoche
Afro wig bigger than my face
Red river in one hand
choking on a eve filter

Diamond in the back
Sun roof top
Diggin the scene
with a gangsta lean roof

getting a primo from Caroline
Cornbread’s main stable
“Look at the trick’s shoes,
“a narc’s shoes are always too shiny”
‘Naw bitch’, Jean Nate chimes in
‘That’s just a trick that likes nice shoes,
Look at his hair cut, if it’s too short he’s 5 0’

Diamond in the back
Sun roof top
Diggin the scene
With a gangsta lean roof

Touching up my Flori Roberts lipstick
in the bar’s mirror
feeling as old as my fake id
a man fits a drink into my hand
‘wanna date’ I smile
I look at his scuffed shoes, long hair
walk outside with him
Popping my gum

Self Portrait 6

July 13, 2009  :: 0 comments

Corn tortillas wrapped in foil
So good like they were made
by Tia Liz
Sweating under her box fan
while she sucked on a lemon
And drank peppermint schnapps
Talking shit about that educated
Puta that took her man

Rushing for my bus sipping
a nice earl gray/
peppermint/green tea
environment friendly mug
mp3 and do rag on my head
pen silently melting