Good Hard Try [Hippie Squared]

I understand that for President Obama’s climate change policy, natural gas seems to be a political necessity—a transitional energy source. However, here’s my question: Isn’t drinkable water a basic necessity for human life? How long can a human being live without water? On the other hand, is...

When Muslin Extremists Spread Like Wildflower [Hippie Squared]

Here’s a word game we can play: Find all the dogberryisms in the next sentence. A terrible riff came between them, but luckily they nipped it in the butt before it became a mute point when they got caught in a worldwind and muslin extremists began to spread like wildflower. What’s a dogberryism? Same as a malapropism. And what’s a malapropism? We all know the phenomenon, whether or not we know the terms. It’s when someone uses a word in a sentence that isn’t the right word but it sounds like the right word. For instance: “Texas has a lot of electrical votes.” That’s from Yogi Berra, a well-known practitioner of the dogberryism/malapropism,...

Silly Smorgasbord & Rough Draft Riffs [Hippie Squared]

My mom used to do a thing she called “Silly Smorgasbord.” She’d raid the refrigerator for leftovers and the cabinets for quick items she could skid out onto the table to cobble up a dinner for my stepbrothers and me. That might sound like a lesser meal plan, but I always loved silly...

Reading: A Seductive Magic [Hippie Squared]

I love to read. Love love love love love it. I find it to be an incredibly intimate way to share someone else’s thought(s). They wrote it down. They signed it. They hit enter, they hit send. There’s no backing off of that. “This is what happened to me,” they are saying; or, “This...

The Séance: A Ghost Story? [Hippie Squared]

The only dead person we knew between the two of us was Valerie’s Uncle Robert. So we decided that for our first séance we would call on him. Valerie was my best friend in the neighborhood. She was eleven, and I was ten, in Lansing, Michigan in the fall of 1973. First we chose the room,...

When I Made Dick Van Dyke Laugh (A Hollywood Valentine) [Hippie Square...

I like this tale. What’s more, I like this telling of it. Hippie Squared is often mined from my personal oral tradition–oft-told tales of my adventures. But sometimes I get the nagging feeling that I told it better years ago at a party somewhere. Not here. This time, I feel like I...

Accepting Thirst: Edward Field’s Kabuli Days [Hippie Squared] [B...

A travel journal is a kind of quest tale. In 1970 poet Edward Field journeyed to Afghanistan questing for Sufis (as a Gurdjieff fan); “sex, as all travelers are;” and “a little hotel clinging to a rock in the middle of a rushing river” which he saw in a National...

Hammock in the Moonlight (Mexico68 at Naya) [Three Line Lunch]

an occasional diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Hammock in the Moonlight (Mexico68 at Naya) Bari sax lays it down, contented rumble, On rhythm canopy: macramed conga beat, bass thrumble, percussion shiver n’ shimmy; Hammock rocking in the moonlight...

Three Line Lunchbox [Hippie Squared]

So here it is: an assortment of items out of a Three Line Lunchbox. An apple, some chips and a few three line poems–spread ‘em out on your picnic blanket. Ripe, stale, juicy or crunchy; gnaw on a couple and you decide. Enjoy with wine, beer or a glass of cool lemonade. Wild Grass...

Only Weeks From Death But With Life Still Possible [Three Line Lunch]

an occasional diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Only Weeks From Death But With Life Still Possible (For Peggy Holman 6/21/40 – 4/18/06) “I was out walking Dodger this morning and looking at the flowers,” My mom said, “And I thought, I’m not afraid of...

He Was the Kinda Guy [Three Line Lunch]

a sparsely-furnished diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers He Was the Kinda Guy Who’d call you up all serious and urgent and ask you something like, “Jeff, when I tie my shoe laces, should I put the right one over the left one, Or the left one over the right one first?”...

Espresso and So [Three Line Lunch]

an all-too-infrequent diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Espresso and So (Coffee Klatch in San Dimas) Fine frothed crema pads liquid obsidian surface of espresso and so I hoist my cup high in salute, “Covadonga!” Love to say it. Love to drink it. featured image credit: Paul...

The Honey [Three Line Lunch]

a fugitive diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers The Honey Brain iz buzzing With words this morning– Worker bees in the hive.

Hearing My Voice Break [Hippie Squared]

When we write we are speaking, in print, in the voice of whatever we are. I find myself in a weird place right now. As I enter my fiftieth year, having come through two years of chaos and crisis in more than one arena of my life, I feel so changed that I’m not even quite sure that I...

You, Not You [Hippie Squared]

Flannery O’Connor once said that the only way to write successful autobiographical fiction is if you are able to look at yourself as a fictional character. In other words, if you can look at you as if you were not you. Autobiographical or not, your fictional characters are not you....

All That California Female Energy (Another Turn on the Pony) [Hippie S...

It was our first rehearsal for Salome, late spring 1991. I had managed to drag Mutahar Williams along. “Mutahah,” as it was pronounced, was his Subud name, but he was very English, his voice deep and resonant, like seasoned wood: an exquisitely-tuned instrument for poetry....

Gray Pony’s Wild Ride [Hippie Squared]

We did Oscar Wilde’s Salome in our underwear in the summer of 1991 and got “Pick of the Week” in the LA Weekly for it, a big deal then. We had a hit play on our hands. We were the Gray Pony Chorus. It was a wild ride. That was the peak of our renown. Since then, we’ve...

Talking to Myself in Public [Three Line Lunch]

a fitfully sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers  Talking to Myself in Public Here I am Talking to myselfIn public again.

Lessons of the Taoist Demon-Wrestler [Hippie Squared]

This is a special Three Line Lunch crossover edition of Hippie Squared. It’s a first edition. Save this, it could be a collector’s item. (Do I date myself? Very well then, I date myself! I am large, I contain decades.) TLL graciously offered to step in when it became clear that HS...

Over the Line of Midnight at the Bargaining Table [Three Line Lunch]

a fitful and unpredictable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Over the Line of Midnight at the Bargaining Table 50 union members behind witness her erect, back muscles cross-hatched, unsheath her voice. Opposing lawyer with managers spread like wings, papers choked in fist, pogos to his...

You Never Know [Three Line Lunch]

a fitful and unpredictable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers You Never Know You just never know. You try to guess, But you never know.

And Then I Ask [Three Line Lunch]

a fitful and unpredictable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers And Then I Ask “A statement is always a lie,” I say, And then I ask, “Is a question always the...

Head Under Pages [Three Line Lunch]

a fitful and unpredictable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Head Under Pages I take a deep breath and plunge my head in the book, open my eyes On a world that wavers…real and unreal, beauty, strange, dread and attendant courage, And though I long to stay down, I know, I can only...

Where the Rhyme Takes You [Three Line Lunch]

a sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Where the Rhyme Takes You Sometimes you just have to go Where the rhyme takes you, Don’t cha know.    

Actually a River [Hippie Squared]

After almost thirty years in LA, I’m still discovering new things. Whole new worlds even. Last Sunday we took a nice walk with Riverworld on our left and Golf World on our right, and then watched astonished as Golf World gave way to Horse & Cowboy World. Our dogs had cabin fever. My...

Powerflows: Political Musings [Hippie Squared]

I keep coming back to the idea that we’re too much under the sway of what’s in the end, just a system of weights and measures gone haywire. Money, I’m talking about. And the whole monetary regime that we’re living and dying under right now — a towering teetering...

The Snail’s-Pace Chase [Hippie Squared]

I was living in Hollywood then, dead across from the last known address of the Black Dahlia at 1842 North Cherokee. It was the crack years in Los Angeles, and my once-tony neighborhood was a center of the trade. I lived in a grand old apartment building fallen on hard times, called Cliffwood...

Wilderness Survival [Hippie Squared]

When I was nineteen I took a Wilderness Survival class at Lansing Community College. For the final we had to pair up with a classmate and survive a night without tent, sleeping bags or gear in the late fall Michigan woods. No snow, but still plenty cold enough to catch a nice case of...

Three Line Lunch: In the Domed Chamber of Bone

a spotty diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers In the Domed Chamber of Bone From within and below the echoes I peer up through slanted sun-striped shadows Under the arching dome of bone in the chamber of my skull, and try to decipher The scratchings, the paintings, the figures and letters...

Three Line Lunch: Planning Mindfulness

a spotty diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Planning Mindfulness There I was in the shower this morning, rinsing my face under hot water, and planning Moments in the future When I would live in the...

Three Line Lunch: Ain’t This Universe a Ball?

an occasional diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Ain’t This Universe a Ball? Every journey’s a journey to the heart of the earth, Each our own earth Out there spinning.

Three Line Lunch: First We Must Be Friends

an occasional diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers First We Must Be Friends I always aspired to a seasoned heart, to a well-traveled heart. Still I’ve longed too to lie back in the meadow in the lap of a lifelong love. Now I see this seasoned heart travels wherever I do. And first...

Three Line Lunch: On the Braided River

a sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers On the Braided River Up ramp I join this braided river, its woven flow, currents and snags. Off right freeway bank Mountains rise snow-robed. Ahead deep pink in great daubs across a lowering blue horizon. Souls by the millions for miles upon...

Three Line Lunch: In a Honeyed Light

a sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers In a Honeyed Light Over each moment hangs a shadow, because The only oath life keeps is death. Yet each moment is bathed In a honeyed light, because this alive moment only is real....

Three Line Lunch: In a Black Quartz Sky

a sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers In a Black Quartz Sky Night rain drops sweet-cold on eyebrows and cheeks. Rivulets blur my glasses As I walk to the car, folded umbrella tucked under my arm, Streetlights on blacktop street a flare of diamonds in a black quartz sky....

Hippie Squared: Some Things I Remember and Some I Don’t

I was working the Sunset Strip that night. I pulled my cab over to the curb in front of the Rainbow, or Gazzari’s, or the Coconut Teaser. It was a Friday or a Saturday night in early 1987—a long time ago. There are some things I remember, and some things I don’t. I remember her....

Hello Friday: FaN Notes [Week 4 of 2011]

Wondering how long it will take me to stop writing 2010 and then having to delete and correct with 2011. So far I’ve made this mistake four weeks and counting. Sad. How are you all doing with this? Other than that, let’s get into my notes re this week at Fierce and Nerdy. 1....

Hippie Squared: Macaroni Superstar

Yes, it’s only from a box. But the classic, Kraft Dinner-style, bright, nearly radioactive orange mac ‘n’ cheese is a sensual treasure and a deep comfort. Properly prepared, it’s a fallen beauty elevated anew in this cardboard modern world—a redemption of the cheap and...

Three Line Lunch: Everyone’s Trying to Do Their Best

a sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Everyone’s Trying to Do Their Best Walking round Silverlake Reservoir, norm seems to be little to no eye contact. So I can watch each runner, walker, in solitary concentration; young, old; worried, determined, Grooving to earphones. I...

Three Line Lunch: What’s Breaking

a sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers What’s Breaking All week long I’ve felt like something was broken or breaking. Only this morning did I realize: What’s breaking is my heart....

Three Line Lunch: I Always Liked the Sad Songs

a sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers I Always Liked the Sad Songs As a kid I yearned forward to earning my own scars of the adventuring heart, My heartaches and hard-won wisdom. Now down my long rocky road looking back I find it’s gotten hard to listen to those old sad...

Three Line Lunch: Whatever It Is (Last Call, New Year’s Eve at t...

a sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Whatever It Is (Last Call, New Year’s Eve at the Thirsty Crow) He leans into the bar. “I’ll have a raspberry vodka with cranberry.” The pretty bartender just looks at him.  His voice sways on its feet. “Or a...

Three Line Lunch: Choose Your Moment

an erratic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Choose Your Moment Her lips are soft, exploratory. But I need to look for jobs. “Is that wrong?” I say, “Should I just be in the moment?” “Depends what moment you want to be in,” she says....

Three Line Lunch: The House Always Wins

an unreliable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers The House Always Wins Throw your cards on the table. Full house: Visa, Amex, Discover, debit and credit. Because the house always wins....

Three Line Lunch: On Open Seas at the HMS Bounty

an unreliable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers On Open Seas at the HMS Bounty  Low dark beams, porthole mirrors line walls, wooden ship diorama behind glass, back of bar. Memories hover of brief torrid love 24 years ago in Gaylord apartment, floors above. Tonight I’m cast...

Three Line Lunch: Bliss Eyes Closed (Same Cat Time, Same Cat Place)

an unreliable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Bliss Eyes Closed (Same Cat Time, Same Cat Place)  Pepper comes to visit me in the bathroom each morning, rubs her white fur body on my naked legs. Stovetop espresso brewing I sit cross-legged on kitchen floor, gray Imogen in lap...

Three Line Lunch: The Poetry Flick

an unreliable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers The Poetry Flick  “Just write the truth,” she said. “Don’t impress.” But don’t she know It’s all in the flick of the...

Three Line Lunch: Bowstring Tightrope

a sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Bowstring Tightrope  I pick up my pen Then I step Right out onto the bowstring

Three Line Lunch: Her Midnight Door

a sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Her Midnight Door  Cracked, no light behind, Dark-outlined As in thick black eyeliner.

Three Line Lunch: Full Moon Over Joshua Tree

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Full Moon Over Joshua Tree  Astride the stars, atop the sky A night-sun so bright It hurts my eyes.

Three Line Lunch: Hand

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 417 Hand I climb onto the tree. I pound in the nails. I reach my hand down from the sky and I rise to greet it.

Three Line Lunch: Tree

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 416 Tree I cut the tree from the forest, strip it and stab it into dead earth. I climb onto it. I pound in the nails.

Three Line Lunch: Mirror Her

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 415 Mirror Her Oh for the veil That hides me from the mirror Of her eyes

Three Line Lunch: One Bastard Moil

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 414 One Bastard Moil Tur Moil Perhaps my least favorite moil

Three Line Lunch: Behind Bars

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 413 Behind Bars Thoughts clutch At their bars Of bone.

Three Line Lunch: The Lid

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 412 The Lid The more the insides roil The more still My lid.

Three Line Lunch: Broken Wing

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 411 Broken Wing Quill pen Dangles, A broken wing.

Three Line Lunch: The Mute Poet

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 410 The Mute Poet I have fallen mute Before my own Life.

Three Line Lunch: The Veil

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 403 The Veil The veil might slip back. But I’ll know, this time That it’s a...

Three Line Lunch: Right Over Here

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 398 Right Over Here Me and you and all the rest of us in this great big high-vaulted universe. So how about if I take charge of this little corner Right over...

Three Line Lunch: How About if I Take Charge?

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 397 How About if I Take Charge? Me and you and all the rest of us in this great big high-vaulted universe. So how about if I take charge Of this little corner right over...

Three Line Lunch: At Mystique’s End

a fitful diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 396 At Mystique’s End I drew a lovely veil over my eyes. I will not curse the veil. But I pull it aside and praise clear...

Three Line Lunch: A Meditation

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 393 A Meditation I am in my body. I am in this world. This world is my body.

Three Line Lunch: What You Think, What You Do

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 386 What You Think, What You Do Break it down, thought by thought: This is what’s it like, moment by moment: This is what you think. This is what you...

Three Line Lunch: Susan Sings For Her Dinner

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 385 Susan Sings For Her Dinner I love it when she speaks. Susan, our old dog, one crippled leg, fuzzy muzzle, as I hover the dinner bowl above her, Lifts her snout and looks right at me with big black eyes and barks with furious...

Three Line Lunch: A Planetary Journey

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 384 A Planetary Journey Setting out for a movie we end up driving the winding roads up Griffith Park hills. On a bench we look out at the Hollywood Hills, hold hands and talk. Walk to the Observatory. Under stars on planetarium dome in cushy...

Three Line Lunch: A Toe’s Radius

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 383 A Toe’s Radius for Elise upon journey‘s return Tonight my sleep no longer lonely. Yes, alone can be sweet, Air blowing cool across my naked body, covers off, sliding door open to overnight balcony. But all tonight long even in...

Three Line Lunch: A Lone Certainty

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 382 A Lone Certainty Only one thing is certain: Something Will happen.

Three Line Lunch: Button

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 381 Button Breath: Reset Button.

Three Line Lunch: The Breath From My Fingers

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 380 The Breath From My Fingers These are my fingers. These are my thoughts. This oxygen belongs in my chest until it enters the breath of the earth.  These words have left my fingers. They now belong to you....

Three Line Lunch: Sensuality of Thought

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 379 Sensuality of Thought My subject is the Sensuality of Thought. But she just won’t Hold a pose.  

Three Line Lunch: The Other Thing About a Journey

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 377 The Other Thing About a Journey We travel some way in dear company. My lover-wife’s face in my hands. Her knowing touch. Eyes of the friend who knows me in square gaze. An eloquent long hug. I hope to die loving hand in mine, loving...

Hippie Squared: Gold Country Gold [FaN Favorites]

. a favorite blogumn by Jeff Rogers Jeff Says: It wasn’t easy for me to pick a favorite “Hippie Squared” to rerun. I’m pleased to find how many of them I’m still happy with. But “Gold Country Gold” has a few things to recommend it. It might be the most purely crafted of them...

Three Line Lunch: The Thing About a Journey

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 376 The Thing About a Journey We travel all some way alone. In quiet womb’s peace I hovered. Only child I spent solitudes in ecstasies boredeom loneliness & philosophy. I hope to die Loving hand in mine, loving faces in my light. Still...

Three Line Lunch: So I Extend

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 375 So I Extend I stand on this ground and push my mind down into my feet. I lift my head and look into the trees, feel the breeze in my hair, see it wave the leaves. So I extend from the base of the earth to the top of my head and beyond....

Three Line Lunch: Rerouting Rivers

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 374 Rerouting Rivers When the walls of hard rock tower over us, like water we follow the course Of our weakness: channels carved in soft sand become high-banked rivers in our brains. How now to blast my rock walls, jump my banks and reroute my...

Three Line Lunch: Full Moonset

a diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 373 Full Moonset for Elise out on her journey Ripe orange white and round it slides right down sky and snuggles between mountains. On morning patio I sip my coffee. Full moonset over Elysian Park....

Three Line Lunch: Gaining Ground

a daily diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 367 Gaining Ground The question I place before me now: How do I use the blessing of this time alone  To gain ground on myself?...

Three Line Lunch: Quietude

a daily diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 366 Quietude Let me be quiet Even In my disquietude.  

Three Line Lunch: The Unhurried Self

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 365 The Unhurried Self It will be my task, now, to be gentle With the objects that come to my hand, with the creatures that live under my care, With my own unhurried self....

Three Line Lunch: Easy in Spirit

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 364 Easy in Spirit I find myself this morning easy in spirit As Elise prepares to journey north again And I prepare myself inside for a quiet time at home....

Hippie Squared: That Curious Ribbon (The Essential Metaphor)

Lately I’ve been thinking about life as a journey again–the inescapable, essential metaphor: That Curious Ribbon What other metaphor Can I really imagine for all this Than a journey Down a ribbon of road? Then the metaphors crowd in. Just to ask is to call them round. But I take...

Three Line Lunch: Tears in the Ocean

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 345 Tears in the Ocean “I refuse to drown,” she said, “Just because He refuses to swim.”  

Three Line Lunch: Lies and Truth

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 344 Lies and Truth Always have to keep close track of your lies. Nice thing about the truth, even when it hurts: Truth keeps track of...

Hippie Squared: Coffee

. by Jeff Rogers and Scott Roat Black and silver spools, an uncoiling ribbon, architecture of feverish reveries built on bricks of beans; an egg, blue, sliding across the plate, a slick track of oil collects at the lip; wash it away with coffee, holy coffee, energy oil, tincture of high wire...

Three Line Lunch: 1/7th a New Man

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 333 1/7th a New Man They say every cell in your body is born anew in seven years. So in one year 1/7th of your cells become brand new. Don’t trouble me with the anniversary of my sin. Can’t you see I’m 1/7th a new...

Three Line Lunch: The Lennon Killer

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 332 Bleak LA #4: The Lennon Killer “Mark David Chapman,” he says, wild gray hair and sunburned red face, And me looking 1980 Lennon – what the fuck does he mean? “He thought he was right,” Thrusts cocked face up close to mine,...

Three Line Lunch: The Gifts of a Year

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 331 The Gifts of a Year Accepted a job today. What a year can bring. The devestations of January and March. The fortunes of July. 

Hippie Squared: Wishing for a Pair of Wings and a Set of Goggles

Wishing for a pair of wings and a set of goggles, Warren Crutch washed the floor, while his elderly mother hovered nearby, and when he finished, he left the house. He walked the late afternoon streets alone until he reached the home of his girlfriend, Alabaster Lane. With blonde hair and...

Three Line Lunch: The Wrong Question

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 324 The Wrong Question There can be No right answer To the wrong question. 

Three Line Lunch: Nice Shoes

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 323 Nice Shoes Morning: “We can’t afford those shoes,” I say. “You force me into this role,” says Elise, “You’ve had the same shoes for years. You need new ones. I buy them and you...

Three Line Lunch: World Curve

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 322 World Curve Half a world away it’s night time and moments are being made that will last lifetimes. I walk down the street to the small restaurant for huevos rancheros, walk it back home Where we sit on the couch this morning...

Three Line Lunch: Objectivity is Hard to Come By (Says Dr. Rolfe)

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 319 Objectivity is Hard to Come By (Says Dr. Rolfe) “You can get it from me,” he says, tall, lanky, cross-legged; gray-goateed and grinning. “But that’s only because you pay me.  “I’m not invested. I can...

Three Line Lunch: Party Report #5: Why I’m Not a Baseball Star

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 317 Party Report #5: Why I’m Not a Baseball Star “How could you tell who was going to make it?” someone asks youth coach Butcher. “If they wanted to be in the batting cage more than with a naked woman,” he says. “Now I know why I...

Three Line Lunch: My Patio, With My Eyes Open

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 316 My Patio, With My Eyes Open A mop leans against the fence; plastic bag of dog shit on back stoop; washer and dryer Against wall; strand of decorative lights burned-out coiled on a chair; cardboard boxes. But the hours spent in air...

Three Line Lunch: Fire Flowers

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 315 Fire Flowers Dozens of points off balcony: screechers, warbling whistlers & cracklers; pops & booms. Far and close: ones that bloom, ones that burst; pink & green sprayers and white twirlers. Through our tree a whine:...

Three Line Lunch: It Goes On It Goes

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 314 It Goes On It Goes (In Memoriam Matthew Butcher 1983-2010) Today I am sad for my friend, her family; her son shot, killed, and grief is because time Goes only one way, so we laugh and joke, drink and smoke, say soft words close that...

Three Line Lunch: Pretty in Hardback Pink

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 309 Pretty in Hardback Pink (32 Candles Book Signing) From Writing Pad’s small classes in Silverlake, food and writing and talk, friendships Arose and spread. Ernessa brought cocoon novel already strong but we prodded and coaxed...

Three Line Lunch: A Fireside Philosophy of Fire

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 308 A Fireside Philosophy of Fire (Bon Voyage Bonfire for Burt and Moon) “Fire: nature’s TV,” says Leo, “And it never repeats.” “No reruns,” I say,  “There are no reruns in a...

Three Line Lunch: Living on the Patio

a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 307 Living on the Patio There’s something about just being outside. Friend and downstairs renter Stephanie’s  Good old round-faced smiling friend Cecilio, of the sideyard barbeques of years past Visits from Vegas, so...