Posting History for ruleoflaw
|Comfort Makes Me Right: Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left
Copper, cotton and fool's gold beaten into mash, shoveled down maws of metal monkeys, greater than the sum of ribs, thumbs, and vertebrae. Acid leak squeals spray from split purple lips. Road ...
|What's for Dinner? v9.43: Mauro Giuliani Roasted Potatoes with Asparagus
For this recipe, you will need 1 Pepe Romero 1 Neville Mariner 1 Chamber Orchestra of the Academy of St. Martin In the Fields (If Messrs. Romero and Mariner are otherwise engaged, or if you haven'...
|Spot In My Eye (Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left)
Spot in my eye, rolling in black water, fumbling for an object in a dark house. What I've seen past the spot might be better. Worrisome blind blur allows no ease. Pry-bar touches ribs, dig your ...
|Appetite For Blather: Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left
You have no one but you to blame if you cannot hear the sky. When the air is jelled and cloying, the phone book will not open. Soil packs too hard for fingernails, too soft for pails and shovels. ...
|Beethoven Mushroom Soup Sonata
For this recipe, you will need: 1 precisely-tuned concert grand piano 1 Daniel Barenboim (The first two ingredients may be substituted with any Barenboim recording that includes Beethoven/...
|When Sugar Frogs Called: Indigo Kalliope, Poems From the Left
Sap has run, sweetness given up. Steamed down, molded into golden sugar. Steam rises into budding branches. Tree frogs chatter in mist, first fish hear their call, Red horse and suckers in the cold ...
|Under Sara's Fingernail
Under Sara's Fingernail In a box from Portland across half a continent care of Sara and Ann, of hands and souls carrying hope, good, and true from strange friends, friendly strangers, opened with ...
|Duckfooted (Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left)
Duckfooted tears flow from leaves no longer. Last of ancients, she does not wait for life to run out. A wall goes up slowly. Bricks close up the sore place. Missing moments are scratches behind ...
|Three Winter Stanzas and Hope.
Three Winter Stanzas In my house, I wait for winter to pass. I was talking to the dog. He did not answer, only stared, wagged the tail, happy to be acknowledged. A man carried a cross of mahogany ...
|Cosmos Quake: Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left
Lore we knew became grace in pieces, before it was so very wrong, crushed like porcelain. In the grain of light, ripples of weed on the sand clinging to bedrock, where breath heaves and flows. ...
|Straining the Bars of Paradise: An Appreciation
Along with some assorted schkweeks and blather, I usually post my own poetry here. This is a bit of a departure. Below the fold, I've posted an extended excerpt from a play I've read and reread ...
|Wading in Spillerburg Creek
Roiled under screws and paddles ribbons of mud roll too slow to turn, too slow to turn aside the pull of big water. Above the surface I breathe, skip pulsed and pilled full of bite, my mud-washed ...
Please folks, can we retire the term "middle class"? There used to be something like a middle class, but it's beyond saving. It's gone. There's a tiny percentage of folks who live on the invested ...
|Rust, Rot, Crack--Indigo Kalliope: Poems from the Left
Iron bands rust, oak cracks, leather rots. Who we love, seldom asked how we love, in truth, in time, and in silence. We pass wrecks in ditches, going on and on, wondering, or not, about motion, ...
|Bad Dog: Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left
The last dog in this pound ain't coming back home. He's the nephew of the littermate of a sonofabitch problem child. Nobody asked to pet him or walk him. He snarls and and snaps and humps a leg. He ...
|This Gorilla Suit Has No Zipper
Cold mornings open on iron ground. Thin, dry grass, sparse as hair on an old man's head, clings in bitter struggle. Refrozen, rancid winter kills laid bare to punctures and flaying scavengers. ...
|Turtle Mother, Moonwater, and Fire
Turtle Mother, Moonwater, and Fire Eyes rise in dark water. Snout out in sunlight. Sink pretty lady. Rest scales and claws. In the deep stink, abide. Under the fire lane your children sleep. Death ...
|Solidarity Sing-Along #1000
I thought this should be noted. Today, January 8th, 2015, in the Capitol Rotunda in Madison, Wisconsin, the Solidarity Sing-Along met. The Sing-Along has been held on 1000 consecutive working days, ...
|Sore-eyed Watchers: Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left
Sore-eyed Watchers On ground we did not choose we stand with the dusk at our backs. In mire, in hollows, on stony ridges we sing to stars obscured, ancient beams slipping down the air into streams ...
|Solidarity Singalong Festivus, The Long Night Begins
Yesterday, a bunch of people who deeply love their state gathered in the Rotunda of the Wisconsin State Capitol to celebrate Festivus. This event was organized by my friend and comrade, Giles Goat ...
|Tapping the Kettle
This is a Solstice poem for my friend, belinda ridgewood . Below the impressionist cheese doodle is a happy holiday rant. Tapping the Kettle The table is laid with half a loaf. Cauldron scraped ...
Bounced and broken like a bad melon Hot hag screech tears skin away. Circus parade tramples goodmen and bad. Hooves and clown shoes cannot crush the itch in my chest. I'm a bad melon, a sickback ...
|Johannes Brahms Chili
Before we begin cooking Johannes Brahms Chili, you will note that some of the ingredients are fresh, some canned, some frozen and some are recorded on a compact disc. Fresh ingredients, when ...
|I Thought We All Could Use a Poem.
Over the Sill of November Scrapes and breaks in the veneer form no scabs, no scars. Open for all time, the patina of familiar use settles over broken places, The scratches and mars on the empty ...
|Ballot-Box Hero: Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left
Panic is pickled and peddled in pints by bobbling blowers of blattery. Be not beguiled by merchants of bile or bamboozled by rampant asshattery. Your Papa can't help, he's pushin up daisies. ...
|Lament for John Barleycorn
Lament for John Barleycorn In the sweet black earth, where the plow split her open, was born wee wind-waltzing John. Light was his butter and bread. In wet-whiskered fullness waxed he. The ...
|Extinction: Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left
If I had to explain in a broken butter-mouth, would you listen? Neck bent back, open, exposed on the roadside. Is there decency in such death? Last night's rain was enough to settle the dust on my ...
|Annoyances and Potatoes
I posted this as a comment in today's Morning Open Thread . I was playing with Palinesqe layered synonyms and it resolved itself into a poem that I had fun writing. I hope you will enjoy it. ...
|Indigo Kalliope: Poems from the Left: Ikon in Sand
Ikon in Sand Under a flypaper-swaddled tomato, straight stands the ranger. Tattooed baby warbles magnificent manifestoes Yowl out your hambone antiphons of silent supper Ranger cries out, no levee ...
|Penokee Poems, Stories and Screeds, Part 3: Manoomin
In parts one and two of this series I wrote about Gogebic Taconite and their plan to tear the heart out of the Bad River watershed in Northern Wisconsin. The Wisconsin GOP have aided and abetted ...
|Penokee Poems, Stories and Screeds, Part 2: Eating the Sun
In Part One of this verse-rant, I told you about the struggle to foil Gogebic Taconite (GTac) and Scott Walker's criminal scheme to dig a huge open-pit mine across the Bad River Watershed in ...
|We, the Damned (Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left)
Kalliope Means "beautiful voice" from Greek καλλος (kallos) "beauty" and οψ (ops) "voice". In Greek mythology she was a goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, one of the nine Muses. ...
|Penokee Poems, Stories and Screeds, Part 1: Protect the Water
Tyler Forks Cascades, Copper Falls State Park Being Where it All Comes Together Recently, Mrs. ruleoflaw, Lucky Angus MacPup and I camped at Copper Falls State Park in the ...
|From a Green House
In a green house I dithered and grew. Soft hands and sharp elbows shaped a head full of wonderment and worry. In root-stained blackwater, wood frogs waited. Under cedars, under oaks, through ...
|To Bite Your Mother: Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left
The third and fourth-week diarists have changed places this month, as ruleoflaw is going to be away for his usual week. So we all get the treat of one of his poems a week early this month. I (Kit RMP)
|Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left: Tell Me a Story
Tell me a story. It doesn't have to be true. Speak fables of golden coronets, tales of jeweled tiaras, deep violet silks, vows kept, Pledges made good and whole Word of hero kept, taken up to a ...
The shadow of a sleeping dog is warm. His pillow is purloined from the couch. Naughty, naughty boy. The brown bottle bears a fish on the label. The bitter hops box and dance with John Barleycorn. ...
|A World Without Bees
With each passing minute, the list of things I don't know about science gets longer. This is what I know: We all must eat. The world's food supply is dependent on pollination. Pollination is ...
|Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left: Easter Woman in the Dusk
Land and water, light and air, food in ourselves, ourselves in the world, world in the water. No mystery, no secret lore. We have all been ordained, anointed in the amniotic baptism. Eostre is a ...
|Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left: The Hope of Moths
The Hope of Moths Swifts and nighthawks of fear twist and glide, ripping the high-mast halo. Moths in the glow are we. Bat draws her sonic bead. Heard in the cross-hairs, we float. Believing we ...
|The Next Town West
The next town west of Dingle is Boston. Too early here to break ground. Only my dreams are green. Molly, Marie and Colleen dance in the ashes of Danes, Normans and Saxons. Eyes of blue, eyes of ...
|Joe in the Dark
Joe in the Dark Joe stands out in the dark. Across the street White House lights are tasteful and warm. Earnestly glowing, the LED panels chant and hum. In their silence, they cry out for the land ...
|Wisconsin Republican digs up Francisco Franco's Corpse.
Thanks to Kossack dzinger for the heads up regarding a sad bit of dickishness on the part of Republican Assemblyman John Klenke. Last year, Brown County was promised 2 million dollars in state ...
|Eyes Like Mine Under Cedars
Even after we've lost someone, we keep finding little pieces of them in the back of the cupboard at dusk or in the leaves on a Saturday afternoon. With or without a physical remembrance, a lock of ...
|Indigo Kalliope: Poems from the Left: Ode to the Overpass Light Brigade
Ode to the OLB Up, on the shoulders of a movement stand holders of light. Balancing in high places, they beam and glow, sans backlight, shining on for justice, for fair wages, for a decent ...
|Überführung Light Brigade Nutzen mit dem Solidaritätssingalong
Our brothers and sisters in Germany have been sharing this diary . For their convenience, I'm reposting it in German with the help of Google translator. Ich spreche gerade genug Deutsch, um in ...
|Overpass Light Brigade Benefit with the Solidarity Singalong
The Overpass Light Brigade is expanding. The light is spreading. There are Light Brigade groups popping up all over America. There's another in Germany . They need road money. They held ...
|Indigo Kalliope: Poems from the Left: The Gift of the Mad Guy
The Gift of the Mad Guy In a plain white van, December 20th, 2:45pm. Christmas music plays on the radio. Behind the wheel is a heathen. Behind the heathen is cargo. My sleigh is loaded with bits ...
|Festivus in Wisconsin: The Airing of Grievances at the Solidarity Singalong
Today I had the honor of airing my Festivus grievances in the State Capitol Rotunda in Madison. Serving as master of ceremonies was our friend and compadre Giles Goat Boy in his best George Costanza ...
|Indigo Kalliope: Poems from the Left: Relic
Relic Step out of darkness. Emerge from cabinets and caskets, out of locked drawers. Come forth from dusty crates and stained cartons you forgotten objects, misplaced talismans and fetishes. The ...
|Indigo Kalliope: Poems from the Left: Winning and Losing
Winning and Losing The boy's clothes were so threadbare, had they been washed they might have disappeared. Nevertheless, the filth that held his garments together was plentiful. The dirt lay so ...
Back on July 2nd, I posted a poem called My Favorite Farmer . I knew when I wrote it I would probably write about my favorite farmer again. A man lived a long life, working the land he loved and ...
|I Gave Away My Best.
I fear I'll be driving this van until I die. The rain and the wipers cannot wipe away my disgust. I want to pound my head on the floor. My writing is bent with a dull axe. My words are knocked on ...
Handsome snake, eyes of glass, so quiet, invisible among the stones, gliding through breaks, pouring into cracks to sup the milk of dragons in the earth. I am constricted, crushed, worked into ...
|Macaroni, Manna, and Quails
The fury of my love tears the shroud and spills the ashes from the urn. Though my blue-eyed sun god is dead, the sun radiates and holds us in it's orbit. The green and the white take me home to a ...
|The Dog Who Sees Through Walls
My feet are floating a half-inch above the floor. My lips touch hers so softly. Her cheek, her hair, the side of her neck are like sunlight and new grass. The jingle of collar tags, a yap and the ...
|Rolling in the Pan
I want to roll the words in the water and turn them like glittering flakes in the pan. They ought to sing and stomp, to bite and scratch and snap. Push in the spade and fling dirt in the air. A ...
|Three Turns of Seven in the Fire
The birchbark tinders up, tearing into the kindling like a cat on a cod. Pine knots and split oak feed and fatten him. Confined in a ring of steel and sand, he cannot fend for himself. The sun is ...
|Three Turns of Seven in the Water
We carry the sea inside ourselves. We admire her from the safety of a blanket, perched high in the dunes, safe from riptides and undertows. Beyond the sandbars and shoals, where the green goes to ...
|Three Turns of Seven in the Earth.
Scrubbing soil from potatoes and squash leaves mud in the sink. The sweet earth scent moves my memory to turning and tilling, the cool roots in dark mould, the deep, stout color, near black. I ...
|Three Turns of Seven in the Air
The wind pipes and hoots her cries of joy. The trees twist and quiver as she passes. She tears the hair of hilltops and ruffles the fur of a cattail marsh. The sailor man takes up her offer, a sup ...
|Indigo Kalliope: Poems From the Left: The Loop of Asphalt
Kalliope Means "beautiful voice" from Greek καλλος (kallos) "beauty" and οψ (ops) "voice". In Greek mythology she was a goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, one of the nine Muses.
The garden was put to bed this morning. The tomato and squash vines, the cabbage roots and woody, overgrown kohlrabis were pulled and tossed on the compost pile. Weeding and bedding done I sat on ...
|Poetry Chapbook of DailyKos Comments, Vol. 2
When I post a poem on DKos, I always hope for lots of comments. I'd be lying if I said I didn't care about tips and recs, but I deeply appreciate the Kossacks who put forth the time and effort to ...
|When the Maybe Comes at Night
In the twilight. There is a rustling in the standing corn. It might be a deer or a fat raccoon or maybe something else. There is a splash in the reeds at the far end of the mill pond. It might ...
|I'm Wrong, I'm Right, Forgive Me
When you are wrong, a true friend and ally will tell you the truth. I am an expert at being wrong, a master of error. If I am wrong, tell me. We may disagree but still trust. Our hearts can get ...
I wiped my shoes in the grass. The light was going. Day was flowing out and down below the blue-black drape. I left my shoes on the porch steps. The stiffness in my hands and legs reproaches me. I ...
|Lament for an Actor and Friend
Scott was late in finding his creative soul. He took a comic villain role and made the text sing. He entered eating a chicken leg. He tossed the spent bone over his shoulder. He understood the beat.
|Looking Away, Looking Up
I do not know how we will pull ourselves back from an ignorant plunge into the abyss. Our poisoned politics push forward the poisoning of the planet. We get only one earth with no do-overs. Every ...
|Milk and Honey and the War On Christmas
Roasted, fried, baked in bread, Fatness, fullness, frosted, fed. Spread with butter on a roll, bitten, chewed, swallowed whole with gravy. That is your recommended daily allowance of rhyming. ...
|Bottles of Joy and Chopin
The bottle that is not shared has only one friend. Both die empty and alone. Dogs want full bellies and the love of the pack. This is why they understand us so well. I never understood cats. I ...
|Lament For CJ Campbell.
Last week, aravir asked me if I would like to contribute a political poem to a diary in memory of CJ Campbell, better known in these parts as ulookarmless . I knew when I agreed to do it that I ...
|When the Words Come Home
On a gray morning in October, I am alone in the truck. I'm going to work for somebody else. I would rather be writing, hearing a harpist play Tabhair Dom Do Lámh. Alone again in the delivery van ...
|A Sharp Word in the Neck
Words have power which is why I love to play with them. I turn a pretty phrase and arrange words in pictures of speech. At times the pictures please many, other times, only me. Words pick at ...
|Green Things Going
I practice emotional exhibitionism. I publish deeply personal things for strangers to read, sometimes with the quiet pleasures edited out, the turmoil left. Other times vice-versa. Our minds are ...
The sky was smeared with wood smoke and spots of watering light. It wasn't cold. It wasn't hot. It was enough. My Missus is green eyes and soft arms. She isn't a fashion model. She isn't rich. ...
|Tusk Dents in the Wainscoating
Sometimes courage fails, comfort overrides justice and we ignore the obvious to enthuse the trivial. In parlors and pantries with tusk dents in the wainscoting, we gaze down, wondering aloud, how ...
|Eaten by Fat Grubs
The crows are watching. I do believe the grubs have got to me. Pieces turn gray and fall off. Giant beetles have been found on and around me. I have sprung leaks when it rains. I am getting older ...
|A Poem of a Dog/A Dog of a Poem
My shoes are wet from walking in the grass. His paws are soaked, as is the shaggy hair on his belly, chest and chin. There is an old towel near the door. He sits on the rug and waits. He happily ...
|Ugly Savage Monsters
In my delivery van, I drive past the same spot four times a day. Here, the road crosses a sluggish stream. In the spring, snapping turtles climb up to the gravel shoulder of the road. They do not ...
|Indigo Kalliope: Poems from the Left: A Voice I Heard
Kalliope Means "beautiful voice" from Greek καλλος (kallos) "beauty" and οψ (ops) "voice". In Greek mythology she was a goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, one of the nine Muses.
|A Poc a Bok A Ram
In stained-glass houses people look for meaning and purpose in a book We see the seekers as we ought, but do not see the one we sought. A wild goat led us here, a poc a bok a ram, a poc a bok a ram.
|Poem or No Poem.
A little goddess came to visit today. Missus and I were busy adoring her. A verse I might have written never occurred to me. The little white dog made her smile. The Librarian was happy too. We ...
|The Three Parsons
Three watching parsons under a soggy sky. They observe, record and recall. The first pulls prophetic truth out of his arse. The second acclaims the prophecy to be Gawd's holy writ. The third ...
|King Suite Planet
The hotel room is comfortable and modern. It is clean and kept and made for a moment. The flat screen blathers, the wind of the wasteland on a wire. My suitcase has colonized an alien world. The ...
Road Kill The ground went hard under your feet. You were following your nose in the browse. You heard the humming in the grass all day, hissing up and drifting away every day and night until you ...
|A Fire and a Sup
The foam at the top of the bottle ran over and down. I didn't mind that a bit. I could smell the smoky, muscular malt and the bitter imp hopped on my tongue. I was sitting in a comfortable chair by ...
|The Banquet of Opening
The digging is almost done. Two late hills of red potatoes, a row of carrots, one more cabbage and a short row of green peppers. The tomatoes will give out a few more but the vines are giving up. ...
When a person rises to the top, more often than not, they've been lifted. When a man or woman is described as "fallen", I suspect they have been pushed. When monuments and movements, institutions ...
|The Powers in the Earth
The skies are not kind or cruel. The soil yields for no one living. The burning light cares not for moths. The water is every person's master. The water runs through us. The light feeds us and ...
|A Poetry Chapbook of DailyKos Comments
I have been posting poetry for a little while on DailyKos. The response has been quite positive. I've received a lot of support, advice and encouragement from belinda ridgewood, JayRaye, ...
|The Discount of Discontent.
Swinish brutality traipses in on the worn heels of glory. He smacks a sandbox pail with a sharp stick leading the ocarina marching band. He whispers a word in the ear of September that grows into a ...
Over bottles and glasses on the bar the sad murmurs and soft clucks. A dice cup tockles out the bones "Horse apiece". "Boxcars". "Snake eyes". Loser buys the round. Raffle tickets for a dollar, ...
|The Crest of Your Family
The multitude that is my brother and the throngs of sisters to me, the mob of children who laugh, wail and sleep, each and every person among them, are worthy of respect and honor and love. We can ...
|The Chisel: Creating Poetry
The patient chisel works, a tap or two or three, slicing, biting clean cuts. A smooth notch, a square tenon. Brass fits without gaps. The fools I've known flailed with hammers in a hurry. They ...
Words pour out of me like a faucet, like spring water, water on the shore. White feather edges scrape down the surface, curling and plunging into rolls of bottle glass, the hiss and rumph and ...
|The Willow Hoop.
A hoop of willow twigs woven with blooms wreaths her head, snares his heart. A single day's pain, a half minute of joy, innocent as a dish of mint leaves, wilted roses, thorns clasped by a lonely ...
|The Niagara at Rest
Strollers pad over the sand with pails and shovels. They explore. Bottle-cap doubloons and artifacts of driftwood gold await, with jewel fragments of ship's crockery. Dune grass and chips of mussel ...
Expect delays. Fines double in work zones. The dust and orange barrels of summer make me wait, slow me down, make me examine the chocolate-purple dark in my heart. Not black, not blaze orange. I ...
|Preserved in a Bog: An Elegy for Seamus Heaney
I heard of his passing the day before yesterday. The man who brought Beowulf to life and told over hearts ripped and torn in Thebes. The fellow who told us of Sweeney's flight and opened a Door ...
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