week of October 1 - 7, 2007

A Man With No Teeth Serves Us Breakfast | I'd Like to Bake Your Goods | Stolen Mummies | Brendan Constantine is My Kind of Town
Up Liberty's Skirt | Feeding Holy Cats | Mowing Fargo | I'm a Jew, Are You? | Lizard King of the Laundromat | I Am My Own Orange County
Paris: It's The Cheese | Poetry Super Highway | Judaic Links | Rick's Bookmarks | Cobalt Poets
E-mail Rick | Other Cool Rick Stuff / Upcoming Readings | Who The Hell Is Rick

Orchid Curled in the sweat of a lily, I find you. Bred neatly, in the Floridian swamps that Hide the footprints And the fountains of Deleon. Green: in the murky dawns, That rise from alligator lips. Protected by poisonous snakes And irreproachable distances. I find you; yes, I find you, Curled in the sweat of a lily.

The Weather Hawker On sale today! Zigzags of lightning, Diamond-like, still radiant, Harvested by a merchant With a thousand kites Over Mien Mo Mountain. Bags of wind from Aeolia, Tied up tightly with silver wires. All the fairest breezes A sailor could ever pray for! Grey-white thunder grenades, Surplus from Indra himself! Hurl concussion upon a foe, And strike fear in faraway hearts! Lastly, our special of the day-- See our bounty of rain seeds, Each as potent as it is tiny, Guaranteed to impregnate the clouds. Buy them by the gross, And unleash a flood! Sour & Sweet Heber Street was long and narrow, & at our end of it Sunny, Because the trees did not crowd around Like they did at the East end. By the brick chimney We had an Italian cypress, Tall, splendid, & a little potted lemon tree. Some afternoons I would pick off a lemon & send it as high As my young arm was able Again and again, Until it began to crack up, & then I'd suck at the almost Intolerably sour pulp Coming out, & pucker & frown. Afternoons these days I find myself Far less inventive. I have since sucked out All the sourness I could ever care for. I tear two bags of sugar No lemon For my tea & the towering lemon tree In the yard below Belongs to someone else.