Short Baseline Poems

a wicked forehand,
right on the baseline it lands – 
       perfect, Grand Slam!...

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beneath bickering brass, bluebirds balance beats on baritone branches


For Nette Onclaud, "Monoklitteration" contest, 30 May 2025....

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Sometimes the middle is a little lower or little higher.
Sometimes there is a way to be so much all the higher.
Sometimes there is a need to feel so much all the lower....

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a million minds meandering
wondering whether wise
can continue in chaos
till onus openly overhauled
then doubt duly dissipates
fear fizzles finally
eventually everything eases
finding beautiful baseline balance....

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What is the baseline 
  of your life?

How deep is the chord structure 
  of your meaning?

What is that riff that no raff 
  can destroy?

How long is your drum roll 
 —at the end?

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)...

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In a smokey basement a saxophone plays,

while the singer sings: "Nordic blue wanderer, why is the grass green?
Not red like the cherries in the tree."

The baseline is covered by the strings.

The saxophone plays, the singer sings.
The tune goes on, carried by the beat of the base.

All of a sudden, and out of tune: "Times up guys, closing time!"....

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To you I'm a number 
A census head count 
A baseline, statistic 
Not special 
Tantamount 
A blip on a radar
A bump in the road
I'm just human traffic
A bipedal drone
I'm only a age range
A line on a graph
A check with a Bic pen
A dot on a map
I want you see me
Know who I am
That I breathe, 
That I'm tangible
Just touch me again
Show me you want me
Tell me I count
Not one of the masses
Not common
Tantamount...

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