Toloache Heart

.
A
……..(the)

consistent
crispy
black brick
Baja-style
fruit-studded
Vidalia Thai
authentic
good

……..theater
……..district
……..guacamole
……..truffle
……..melee
……..haystack
…………………..(heart)

……………………………….comes
………………………………………(is)
……………………………….piled
……………………………….wrapped
……………………………….loaded
……………………………….revered
……………………………….named
……………………………….fired

in
       (after, under, beyond)

onion
mango apple peach habanero pomegranate avocado basil jicama jalepeno
lobster tilapia ceviche slaw
…………….(salted, sautéed)

……..seeds
……..tacos
……..grasshoppers
……..pistachios
……..insects
……..tortilla
……..treat
……..crunch

……………
and/or

hit-or-miss
Oaxacan-style
Mexican
edible

……..quesadillas
……..offerings
……..potions.

……..They
          ……..……..……..(the latter)

……………………………….pack
……………………………….resemble
……………………………….showcase

a

moonflower
love

……..plant
……..gem
……..city

that
…..(which?)

……………………………….can
……………………………….come
……………………………….enjoy
……………………………….prove
             ……………………………….…………………..(stand)

…..sometimes
…..more than just downright

bombastic
             (hollow.)

..


Following Margo over to Oulipost for an Inventory (parts of speech) challenge.
Original article here.
..

 


 

 

 

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Echo

(a Triolet)

.

There’s a murmur in her heart,
but they can’t find it –
the tissue is too scarred.
There’s a murmur in her heart
and once it’s torn apart,
they’ll try to bind it.
There’s a murmur in her heart,
but they can’t find it.

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27 Down

13 across was easy enough, that guy
who played Kojak, and 5 down didn’t
give me any trouble, either, because
I just watched the movie Contact. But
then 27 down was the name of that
song, sitting there all innocent with a
blank in it, like maybe I’ve never heard
it, like maybe you didn’t wear the blue
Henley that night and maybe I didn’t
somehow smile at you just right and
maybe we didn’t draw together like two
magnets straight out of G’s Physics
class. And so then maybe you didn’t
reach up and brush my hair back be
-hind my ear, and maybe I didn’t sigh
and the song didn’t say the words my
heart was screaming again and again
in my crazy rattled chest even though
I tried to tell it to shut the hell up and
behave. Maybe I didn’t save the next
dance and the next and the next for you,
and then the last one, too, even though
by then you’d moved on to Darcy Rollins
who, let’s face it, knew how to push
things up where they belong. And maybe
I didn’t long or pine or cry or pen ridic
-ulous lyrics in margins for weeks to
come, or wonder if I’d just been dumb
to think you’d ever want to dance with
me in the first place. And maybe I can
just erase 27 down, and good old sweet
16, too, get on with the rest of this dumb
puzzle. Or maybe I’ll take up Sudoku.

..
Written for Poetic Asides, Day 23.

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Strange Days



These are strange days,
and I am a stranger in my own
skin.

These are strange hours,
ticked and tocked away like so many
stars.

These are strange moments,
stunned into silence by
broken will.

This
estranged now stands,
stranger
still.

..

A second attempt for Quickly, Day 22.

 

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Me, & You


..
You.

You,
with your hands open wide
and your eyes shut tight.

You,
with your infinite capacity
for rhetorical questions.

You
with your brokenness and
your crooked smile.

You,
with your sad heart
and your happy lies.

.
…………….Me,
……………….with my quiet secrets
……………….and my terrible truth:

…………………….I cannot do
……………………….without

.
You.

 

 

.
Written for Quickly, Day 22.

 

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A Voice in the Village

.

Before a silence opens
up, all day and zero stand
-still away,
the taxi sits.

Hovering on a beginning
for a short, straight color
-less wilderness,
the endless run to a city un
-played.

A sparrow wasteland for dry eyes;
endless times I depart,
a going that cannot not be.
Exactly zero years short
and a rider not out of the country
of never still, thoughtlessly we’re
putting down all of the poorest
…………………….least.

Bereft, none are sober in old things.
Off the universe, our hush
………was as evil
as I cannot doubt.

…….She begins:
…………….I need not this arrival.

 

.

.

 

.
Following Margo over to Oulipost, where it’s opposite day for an Antonymy (take a text and replace ALL of the words with an opposite word.) I switched newspapers today and borrowed these pieces of text from an article in The Village Voice:


After the music shuts down each night, thousands flock toward Coachella’s taxi stands, located at the end of the long, winding “yellow path” — a 20-minute walk from the polo fields. (The molly trail of tears.)

Once you arrive, the wait can be almost two hours long, and the drivers are in a state of constant hustle. Considering they’re picking up some of the richest, most entitled, most drugged-out young people on the planet, their stories are as good as you might imagine.

…He concludes: “You’ve got to have a destination.”
 
 

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Wells

..

Drawn
and tired, we toss
in our tarnished pieces of copper
and listen for their impotent plop.
………………….Heads or tails,
we whisper, knowing neither will do,
for our heads are befuddled and be
-draggled and our bodies feel like
strangers we must lug long
distances, heavy and unwieldy.
We wish for some brighter place
to be, but we’ve run out of stars
and perhaps candles, too, and
this dirty pool is our last stop. The
fountain has long dried out, spouting
only rust and empty chlorinated pro
-mises.

We swam here once,
do you remember? Long ago, full
of youth and anticipation
and the delight of un
…………..-knowing.
Finned pockets full of silver
coins and moonlight, we spilled
our salt to a waiting sea,
wave danced until dawn
and watched our tails
glisten in the sun.    

 

 

..

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