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the Log•in my I


 
eye made a mistake, eye fixed
 
 
 
 
my spectacle

(s)

my Shade

(s)

my 3D vision

(s)

seeking to replace the write eye

that was log-jammed, and irksomely would•he

with rat pack finesse.

~the left I established long ago~

exchanging shattered glass

(still)

kaleidoscope colorful

& loupes

(still)

daring & dizzying

& faceted view

(still)

reflecting the million seen

(s)

for unsplintered lenses…

dangerously flimsy, but there were no contacts

fitting horn rims with

double convex,

rhinestone detail,

& tortoise shell

plus choke-chain lanyard,

& while this fresh outlook

is ordered…

or· gone ·eyes

is glaring in magnified detail…

is stylish, mirrored, & polarized…

like a blind man’s

is bi, tri, and my focal

exclusively

it’s shuttered my

3rd eye

in Coke bottle

goggles,

safe, but pointless

and

eye

can no longer

see.

©Karen Robiscoe

 

Pun (ish) Meant

Karen Robiscoe dba CHARRONs CHATTER

I run with Edward Scissorhands

>>>>>

a paper without rock…

and Wet old Willie

makes me frilly

curling my card stock,

while timing out

< releases <<<<<

a second rule: 2

the grimace made

from glut & paste

sticks my face like

. glue .

I displace so well with

others

(though)

a spilling MILF in tears…

a bundled bunch

of out to lunch

a pretzel–side of fear.

©Karen Robiscoe

Geometrie de Deux Erreurs

box universe

time and measure

disagreed,

about the length

a year would need,

to feature seasons

days and weeks,

to round the sun

and at what speed…

stars

time contending

three-six-nine,

accommodated

moon and tides,

leaving room

for set and rise,

of sun although

just trick of eyes…

stars

measure wanted

something less,

three-six-oh

seemed measure best,

a textbook circle

no excess,

tried and true

and fully blessed…

stars

alas, the loop

was shy of goal,

despite the truth

of circle whole,

it missed the mark

to stall at pole,

a shortfall, sure

but fixable…

stars

while time itself

ran well beyond,

the starting point

was there and gone,

throwing off the

dusk and dawn,

quittin’ early,

going long.

stars

so calendar

was called to solve–

the proper rate

a year involved,

how long the earth

took to revolve–

around the sun

and made the call…

stars

three-six-five

was deemed to be,

the flawless mix

of time and reach,

it formed ellipse

and perfectly,

a fabric wave

in cosmic see.

©Karen Robiscoe

orbit

Mort…u Weary?

R_I_P_gravestone

Ever notice how

rigid Mort is?

It’s like he’s

6 feet under,

already…

I combed his toes,

taggin’ ‘em

gave his

cat a tonic,

a lil nip

and his bull head

room

& he never batted an eye.

©Karen Robiscoe

Twelve to One

a monkey thang
 
years later

> at the schoolhouse <

I come to learn that

Chinese jump rope’s made

in America,

that freeze tag’s

a photo

and that

hopscotch

is fermented,

–sold at

monkey bars

(just a hop, skip, and backwards alphabet away)

to the swing set

(grills on the right & boys line the surf)

who

teeter

&

totter

and eventually

catapult

(like a really well-done shotput)

beyond non-regulation B-Ball hoops,

3 Wall racket ball,

and torn chain-link

holding it all together

while Mary—

old-fashioned Mary,

Sweet, muddled, old-fashioned Mary just goes ‘round

(and round)

(and round)

playing hide-and-go-seek like to make an astronaut dizzy

G-force, you know, as

the steepest slide affords

a different kind of thrill…

©Karen R.

Keeps my Neck from Unraveling

I’ve retrofitted my brain

‘got my Feng Shui on…

–plugged pot holes in my neural pathways

a bush & two birds

seismic-proofed my cortical bridge

a still rock’s moss

switched out the frontal lobe with the temporal

tree on which limb I reside

and widened all axons…

without permit

–why, what I’ve done with the den-

drites alone should make Better Poems & Gardens!

it wasn’t brain surgery

the removal of head from ass helped proprietary value, and

southern star

my hippo campus is so empty there’s room enough for dorms—

maybe there is—I forget

–plus hippo!

©Karen Robiscoe

Weird Deconstruction

lose

AM

(i)

from

BE

an’

C

C if that

am-bi-ance

doesn’t suit better.

 

(note: for you wordsmiths out there I’ve employed a variant spelling–though legit!–for ambience)