Admiration

Posted by Rich Magahiz Mon, 15 Jun 2009 12:30:00 GMT

he loved her legs
so much
he still has them
For my sister, who still checks out this blog, and for my friend Daryl, who recalled this 1997 scifaiku of mine to mind

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Hay(na)ku sequence published in Scifaikuest

Posted by Rich Magahiz Thu, 12 Mar 2009 23:29:00 GMT


I received my contributors’ copy of the issue where my hay(na)ku sequence Ooh baby, that’s what I like has been published. It’s erotic theme fits the Valentine’s Day motif for the month, I think.

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Near Tina says Vanna

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 28 Feb 2009 21:33:00 GMT

I just would like to state here that hello
is not really what one says to a mulatto
brought up for murder 1. The albino
judge, face sharp and pinched as a mosquito
had heard the theories of altered libido.
“This is not justice, this is denial,”


I whispered, “a travesty of denial
much deeper than any muttered hello
can contain.” I could tell that the libido
argument was making the poor mulatto
squirm and twitch as though a trained mosquito
had been sicced on him by that albino.


Everyone called hizzoner albino
though he had lots of color. More denial,
I fumed, and more of that damn mosquito
obfuscation! Oh don’t mind me, hello!
Clearly I was the last hope that that mulatto
had, with all this blather of libido.


He had no more and no less libido
than anyone else there, me, the albino,
or the DA, Vanna. The mulatto
stared at Exhibit A in denial.
Was that shank was how he had said hello
to Miss Tina, felling her like a mosquito?


Wait! That’s it! In winter, what mosquito,
whether it had a prodigious libido
or not, could so much as signal hello
anyway? I sent a note to Judge albino
floating the idea of a denial
exonerating the poor mulatto


of all charges. Each of us is mulatto
just as each of us is part mosquito.
Vainly, then, do we sing our denial.
It is no more than frustrated libido
that quickens both the swarthy albino
and yourself. How low, how low your hello?


Signaling my mulatto of suspect libido,
as low as a mosquito was to that albino,
the motion of denial became just “hello.”

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Stellarenga published online

Posted by Rich Magahiz Tue, 27 Jan 2009 23:36:00 GMT

My solo stellarenga On extended leave from 2007 has been published in the latest issue of the online quarterly LYNX.

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Coffee ghazal

Posted by Rich Magahiz Fri, 09 Jan 2009 13:04:00 GMT

Just log in with username ‘coffee’,
The password, of course, also ‘coffee.’
Kiss me with your Sunday morning mouth
I want to taste that strong black coffee.
There is something I have to tell you.
I met someone, skin black as coffee….
Officials said the house was empty,
steam rising from two mugs of coffee.
From the exercise yard he looked back ’
The smell of someone brewing coffee.
She moved the floor lamp a foot to the right,
but could not hide the stain of coffee.
The edge of a shaft of sun
bisects the surface of my coffee.
If there is any hope of heaven for us,
let it be a place with good coffee.
Hidden in the forest shadows,
a tiny plot planted with coffee.
The last Space Station resupply craft:
It brought but oxygen and coffee.
When I look into your nut-brown eyes
I need a couple cups of coffee.
She fainted on the waiting room floor
poisoned, they say, by so-called coffee.
We should never have opened her will;
terms burning hotter than fresh coffee.
The Rabbi spoke slowly for all to hear
“Your misdeeds call for tepid coffee.”
When she was only a willful child
she laid schemes to get hold of coffee.
The Chinese invented many things,
but the one they forgot was coffee.
Two hands clasp a cracked mug of coffee.
You take your God. This fool takes coffee.

Marked up at Everything2

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After the rain

Posted by Rich Magahiz Wed, 19 Nov 2008 22:31:00 GMT

online
checking my stocks –
a big fat wet brown leaf
gets blown up against the back of
my bench

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It's just the Fall

Posted by Rich Magahiz Fri, 14 Nov 2008 00:42:00 GMT

shuffling
through Manhattan
dry scraps about my feet,
scarlet and gold, like crumpled up
bank debts

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A question for Abuelita

Posted by Rich Magahiz Tue, 11 Nov 2008 02:04:00 GMT

Swaddled
in a corn husk
a savory something -
why do we make these only at
Christmas?

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The relic

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sun, 19 Oct 2008 13:36:00 GMT

One foot
beneath these leaves
you might find a grenade,
or perhaps some old letter once
thought lost.

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Top five

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 11 Oct 2008 19:40:00 GMT

From Amaze: The Cinquain Journal comes word that my poem Railroad out of bondage has won fifth place among poems published there in 2007. I am so pleased, I shall simply quote here what the reviewer, Denis Garrison, mentioned about the piece:

Magahiz has essayed a subject that is profoundly meaningful in American society and carries a tremendous baggage of social, cultural, and other resonances. The diction is reminiscent of the events but never condescending. Although the reader must bring something more than usual to the table with a poem like this, its deep allusions will be apparent to millions. This is a hauntingly beautiful poem that comes back to one over and again.

A very nice bit of news for which I am grateful.

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Censer eleven

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 20 Sep 2008 00:51:00 GMT

steel frame spines and plate glass
make the finest incense

the slim columns stretch up toward the
stratosphere

don’t make me sketch out the lines
of chalk

neither malice nor envy can ever
stand up quite right

along one pendant spline
the char

I have been pretty scarce around here, I know and it pains me. Four times, or maybe five, I’ve tried upgrading the site here to the latest version of the blogging software, each time coming up empty because of database changes. I have gone through the last couple years of my output and sent off the best six or eight poems off to journals, garnering a single acceptance so far. And I have been spending some considerable amount of my creative writing effort at my new wiki devoted to teaching evil villains about their craft.

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Ten times ten square roots of two

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 23 Aug 2008 01:27:00 GMT

100_0662
100_0662 by milkfish on Zooomr

Spinning, twisting in a downward converging helix into the pit I never thought I’d behold not ever in my tweakermost dreams, her hazel eyes my sigil notionally on mine lo these various decades slapping at tick bites, and maybe it’s the hit or maybe the encrusted guilt that drags me down faster in accelerating brown streams dead on my own personal trou de cul looking without shame at the clean stars, it’s a standing count I’ve begun over my broken self not so as to erect monuments to stupidity but to erode them pill by crushable pill hoping that passing through the center and up to another moment of elevation it’s a dimebag of mercy waiting on the other end where raptures of soft curls purr back and all the way back to the warning track of my dazzled, plummeting, youth.


via

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