Detail from Their Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room by Nancy Denommee

Detail from Their Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room by Nancy Denommee







When matters of the heart affect mankind
an innate aura is at once engaged
from some internal impulse ill-defined
by scientist, philosopher or sage.
It doesn’t matter what this instinct be,
it’s something that’s enriched by being abstruse;
be thankful that it strikes so naturally
for to invoke it may dilute its use.
How else could one feel startled, awed and stung
on meeting eyes across a crowded space,
a visually transmitted force that stuns
then draws both on in spite of time or place?
How else could poet’s pen detect a vibe
and, bypassing the brain, could yet describe?

On the Origin of the Google Search Algorithm

Al'Khwarizmi - the word algorithm2




Many were the Arab gifts to modern man
Wisdom of the shrewd Semitic scholars past;
Poets Rumi, Ibn ‘Arabi and Khayyam
Geometric art in rhythmic patterns vast.
Studies of the night sky with rare comet flights;
Arabesque anatomy and medicine;
Belly-dancing; sorbet; The Arabian Nights;
Algorithms and decimal ciphering.
Spreading all this knowledge, all this intellect
Like the wild Sirocco scatters grains of sand,
Learning filled the cracks so cultures could connect
Such were gifts of Arabs to Renaissance man.
Google’s algorithm searches everything;
If we search for peace perhaps we’ll share again.

A Paralian Mystery

The portent susurrus
from the windward sea
delivered nostalgic sillage
like death’s breath
to the distant solivagant
unsettling the serenity
in her cloistered littoral haven.
It brought a mnemonic nadir
of aeipathy and pathos
over the threshold of nepenthe
shielding the lacuna in her heart
and she paused…deracinated.
The millstone of eonian onus
now stalled on its pendulum
drawing her eye, mind and step
to the glaucous devouring sea
where Lethean waters led
to benign benthic abeyance.
And no one ever knew why.

A Christmas Song

It’s Santa’n’Summer time so I’m outa here for a few weeks. I’ll catch up with you all in the new year. Here’s a swan-song:

Chestnuts explode in the microwave
Jack Frost dripping down your nose
Yuletide carols being murdered by choirs
And lolcats dressed as Eskimos
Everybody knows
That holly-pricks cause blood to flow
(so do gropes at mistletoe)
From Christmas in Oz as we bask on the beach
Seasons goodwill to you.

With apologies to Mel Torme

In my favorite guise at Kindergarten this week lapping up the love :D

In my favorite guise at Kindergarten this week lapping up the love 😀

It Takes Two To Tango

inside my
dreams and
did I inveigle you
here into my mind?
maybe you’ve arrived
of your sole self-volition?
I don’t want you to be here
in this my lone peaceful place.
I will decide to ignore each your
lilac gaze, redtinge hair, thigh-slit
tanned leg, wisp waist, pliant breast,
your flesh; warm flesh; soft warm flesh.
I will not overlook your disparaging heart,
and grating teeth spitting verbal vilification,
your keen claws, ribald affair, the broken trust;
the tri-polar triangle of him, you and this naïve sap
then the serial raw malevolence of a woman scorned.
But…as you’re here now…may I please have this dance?

Van Gogh & Co.







The Louvre is over-rated it’s just not my cup of tea
The Pharaoh’s gear is awesome but the rest’s vacuity;
From Mona Lisa’s stamp-size frame to dorks in battle trounced
And weirdly outsized saintly sorts whose names I can’t pronounce
I much prefer the action on the counter-facing quai
Just straight across the Pont Royal to the Musée d’Orsay;
Perhaps it’s that I’m plebeian (sans-grade in Bourgeoisie)
The artists who real truths pursue are those I want to see.
More dirt under their fingernails than all their studio peers
These chaps just took their work outdoors in spite of other’s jeers;
With Nature’s inspiration under Heaven’s candid light
They set new standards, studies, styles, all unsurpassed delights.
I hail Van Gogh, Monet, Cézanne and all their splendid oeuvre
Who live across the river from the pompous, lofty Louvre.


jazzmanII Vector ClipArtOnline, Royalty Free & Public Domain






In a Downtown East Side cellar
Ceiling lowered by candle glow
All sit silent save the Jazzman
Ritzy waistcoat, sharp chapeau
Breathing brass into the bar-room
Surfing soundwaves to and fro
That cool dude is in his own world
Improvising like a pro
Riffing tremolo up spine-bones
Palpitating hearts aglow
Altered scales defying back-beat
Bluesy half-tones threatening flow
As the Jazzman vamps a coda
Treble shrill or alto low
In that Downtown East Side cellar
Ceiling lowered by candle glow
You’ll still find my friend the Jazzman
Same glint waistcoat, same chapeau
He’ll be blowing ‘til the Muses
Tell their brother come on home.