Friday, April 29, 2016

Stone Soup is Celebrating it's Forty-Fifth Anniversary on May 2

One of the performers is Martha Boss. Read her work in this week's Stone Soup Servings column over at Oddball Magazine. Then hear her, Carol Weston, at least one surprise reader, and many others for the anniversary celebration of Stone Soup this Monday.

A Peek Into The Prof's Mind

Professa opens his notebook for you to all be a fly on the wall over. It's this week's Twist of JP Lime at Oddball Magazine.

Monday May 9

The better flyer.

Eff The MBTA

More MBTA observations from Janet Cormier in this week's Bamboozled No More! at Oddball Magazine.

Happy Birthday Rene Schwiesow

Thursday, April 28, 2016

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight, Poem Thirty

Stopwatch Tretina

Two types of battles over time.
Those you acknowledge, those you don't
for fear that others take a side.

No one will ever take your side.
Your either there for their time
or against them. Never say you don't

take a side. They think your clock hands don't
exist, ready for their twice-a-day aside,
more unwavering and final than even time.

Fight fo ryour self. Time don't take sides. He takes winners.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight, Poem Twenty-Nine

Several posts short
working fence.

Can't even keep
self in.

Dance Figuratively Speaking

Find out more about photographer Mickey West's event next Saturday on May 7. Visit Liza Zayas' The Underground Garden today at Oddball Magazine.

Happy Birthday, Deborah Priestly

Praise to the Out of The Blue Art Gallery's Matriarch.

Happy May Day--An Early Wish

"May Day (Again)," where James Van Looy recalls the history of May Day and Stone Soup Poetry's founder Jack Powers. It's All One Thing today at Oddball Magazine.

Happy Birthday, Michael Monroe

Andrew Borne's Wild Word of Animals

"sea eagles" continues poet columnist Andrew Borne's current theme today. It's Seven Times today in Oddball Magazine.

Happy Birthday, Colin Killick

Two Mondays from Now

Better flyer coming.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight, Poem Twenty-Eight


Grind teeth

Suck wind
till gape
whistles dixie.

Fine comb
dead grass.

Kick dust
powerded roads
affect stride.

Couldn't be
better be

take up
whole page.

Foot drag
secret message
sand trap.

Everything's not

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight, Poem Twenty-Seven

Trump Poem

This is what democracy now looks like,
a boor talking loud trash over at the bar
left to go on for fear of making him mad,

arranging chairs to ward off a mad
dog that already bit him, mouth frothing like
another beer left to go flat at the bar

for all the women not coming back to the bar.
Now those who don't know why he's mad
either leave or like what they see and like

what they like, at the bar, sitting mad.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight, Poem Twenty-Six


I can bring the roof down
in an amphitheater.

I fill the seats
for the movie next door.

I rock a mic
when it happens to be a rock.

I kill a crowd
held in hospice.

I take the end stage
of any illness

closing don any
foreclosed property.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight, Poem Twenty-Five

Work Poem

Faith is a shield
no stronger than the paper
your god's weekly newsletter
is printed on.

Faith is saying Thank God
the children are safe
until the children throw rocks.

Work is mopping
all that faith
left to fester
in the bathroom stall.

Faith gets two for flinching
every time a work
is thrown up in its face.

Hopelessness is a hand
thrown up in front of yoru face
working to block
other people's work
from hitting our face.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight, Poem Twenty-Four

Condensed Wisdom
"In Bed" optional

Your work does not
appreciate you.
Pay them.

Lovers burn you
from their beds.
Thank them.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

San Francisco With Effects

Google spruced up the photo I posted with my NaPoWriMo poem last week.

Might use this for something down the road.

The Big Finish

Not only do we have a new poet contributing today, but a writer/photographer from earlier this week back to pair graphics with today's poem.

Holly Day and Su Red, today in Oddball Magazine.

Rock You Like a Hurricane

Scarlett Pedersen and Ira Joel Haber kick off a fine Poetry Wednesday over at Oddball Magazine.

Prince Tribute Anthology

Courtesy of the Yellow Chair Review. Submit soon!

San Francisco's Hidden Haiku

I wish I stayed around to find them all.

May 2: Stone Soup Turns 45!

In May of 2006, I hosted the thirty-fifth anniversary of Stone Soup Poetry. Carol Weston was the main feature then, and she has been involved in every other Stone Soup's anniversary month in one way or another. I made a vow years later that if I made it to Stone Soup's forty-fifth anniversary, I would have Carol feature then too. This Monday, May 2nd, Carol Weston is returning and featuring alongside the beloved Martha Boss. I am as excited as I am unprepared for all of this. I'm scrambling as I prepare to inform and remind everyone I can about this event. I will likely also change Stone Soup's start time to 6:30 instead of 7:00 to fit everyone who plans to come. I will also likely announce a third co-feature by Tomorrow. There's much to do, and all you have to do is show up, read if you like, and enjoy the camaraderie as Stone Soup moves celebrates its forty-fifth year (and my tenth year of hosting anniversary months for the venue).

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Six, Poem Twenty-Three

Lunch Poem

I can only ask
once ever time
at the one pizza place
with decent salads
to not over cook the crust.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Five, Poem Twenty-Two


City welcomes
any thing
uglier than.

Wards placed
corners close
to buses, streets.

Same studio
been there
damn near decade.

Happy Birthday, Phillip Larrea

Check out Oddball Magazine for the text to the poems read in the video.

Tuesday Time

Lindsay McLeod and Allison Goldin kick off Tuesday at Oddball Magazine.

Happy Birthday, Lewis Reginald Morris

For the text to this poem, check out Oddball Magazine.

Stone Soup Croutons, 4-25-16, Loaned Time

Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions picked up from poems overheard from Stone Soup's open mic readers and features. I figure out a title either then or later. It's likely some of the poets I thank at the end will even be able to figure out which lines were inspired by their work. To paraphrase Lorne Michaels, the poem doesn't go up because it's good; it goes up because it's Tuesday morning.

My friend Ron Goba gave an intimate reading to an enthusiastic crowd last night. Ron's work is very dense and he read eight poems, which at the moment I was enjoying them were hard to jot down. Therefore I cheated. I took his eight poems, read them over after Stone Soup ended, and incorporated imagery in each one to get an ending to the odd slice of life I was creating with a character I made up on the spot. I couldn't have done it any other way. Enjoy. And thank you, Ron.

Loaned Time

We are all naked
under our costumes.

Our street clothes spit glazed
by madmen on the streets.

Their vulgarities shriek
like a mockingbird's outcry.

Red Eyed!

Finally got back to Boston at 7:00 yesterday morning. Semi-recovered. See you back here soon.

Monday, April 25, 2016

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Five, Poem Twenty-One


No time
like past

wich for
good thing
what works

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Five, Poem Twenty

My Last California Poem

Will not be found
in the airport concession stand
selling seven dollar candy,

or the co-opted nature food shop
with enough uneaten natural ingredients
to cap off a landfill,

or the wedding held
in two separate ranches,
the guests hiking up and down
like the burros they used
to haul their grapes and olives.

Go to our cabin refuge.
It will be empty. We paid an extra night
so we could store our luggage
before making our red eye.

While no one's there,
you can enter, crawl to the top floor
where a little girl
kicked her feet on the wall
while instagraming
to count the ways
she didn't want to return to Southie

and an apartment not much bigger
than our suites by the bay
where she sat in her mother's robe
to try and slow the hours
to each departure.

Find your poem there.
I tried, but the land
only resists change
for those who live there.

Closing Time

Su Red closes out her series of poems and photo pieces for National Poetry Month. Check her out today in Oddball Magazine.

Bill Harvey Has A Message

Find out what his message is in "The Odds" comic today in Oddball Magazine.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

April 25: Ron Goba Returns to Stone Soup Poetry

Ron Goba has been a mentor and friend to not just me but many people in the poetry community, a rightfully beloved figure for decades, Those of us who remember him from his years of being both the doorman and closing open mic poet at The Cantab love that he is still writing and performing with no sign of stopping. Those of you who were not around then should definitely be in the audience to hear Goba this Monday and see what this poet of sound and language (though I stop at calling him a language poet) is capable of. There will be copies of the poems available who comes to the reading.. Let's close out National Poetry Month at Stone Soup with all the style it deserves.

Friday, April 22, 2016

A Street Car With My Name on It

Some scenes from my San Francisco trip, with my girlfriend taking a shot of me riding the side of the car.

Ron Goba is Featuring at Stone Soup Poetry on April 25

Read the introduction to his new series of poems today in today's Stone Soup Servings column at Oddball Magazine. Then be in the audience this Monday to hear Ron's newest series of poems.

Here Comes The Flashback

Nas' album Illmatic is featured in today's Twist of JP Lime over at Oddball Magazine.

I'm hoping they post a Prince tribute soon. We'll definitely promote that too!

The Trump Phenomenon

Janet Cormier takes on the Trump Monster in today's Bamboozled No More! column over at Oddball Magazine.

WCW in San Fran

so much depends

a redwood

seen behind

by technophile

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Two, Poem Nineteen

"That Was Thoughtful of Your Stalker"

to give you that collection
from Ferlnghetti
in time for your trip,

leaving the bookmark
on the first poem
"Away above a harborfull,"

knowing by way of
hacking your records
that you would be staying
in a hotel with an
excellent harbor view

and that his room
across from yours
would give himself
an excellent view
of you hanging clothes
on the patio,

as similar to
the woman in
the bookmarked fantasy
as he could ever achieve.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Two, Poem Eighteen

Frisking Frisco

Sit on the public steps,
look over sidewalks
where no park benches
tempt you to stay.

Ask from which street
came the women
too nice to you
as you passed by.

Watch the cabs meter
keep going as lovers
prolong goodbyes.

Be wary of the man
asking you the way
to another hotel
while he eyes your
taxed paper bag
finding only water.

God love out of towners
like us, he says,
resuming unsure paths.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Two, Poem Seventeen

Bringing Home An Oversized Bookshelf

Let's go and salute every crazy idea.
inevitably coming from somebody sane.

whose sanity was just another rule,
a rule in a game that watches them lose.

Cheer for jabronis who refuse to be jobbed,
crushing space and time like the poor trunk door.

See their heads tilt, hear their necks crik.
Witness them contort to fit their cargo.

Thrill as blindspotted change highway lanes
like parkour jumps onto moving trucks.

Tip of the hat to those knowing the odds,
too pessimistic to bother with fear.

Pity passersby who glare in disgust
and will only get sicker if we succeed.

Acknowledge the ground they finally touch,
their journey at an end, illegally parked.

Let fools cheer fools if no one else will.
Here's to us with one more dumb feat to our name.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Two, Poem Sixteen

Your time becomes
others' buffet

attendees forego plates
gather napkins fall

saved in pockets
later or not

endangered species
served as monk fish

lick your lips
own soup a shambles

theft over tossed away
mil future only

next serving
gluten free

choice cuts
back of party.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Two, Poem Fifteen


This is the stuff
memories are made

to be broken
down to three

acts of triumph
after genres junked

turned off cell phone
your spirit animal

tossed aside camera
totem of strength

in new structure
trepidize trauma

no one was ever here
no one blamed you

we need nostalgia
for what we never want