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About gimble

I've never understood why solitary confinement is considered a punishment. My favorite time of year is when vacation forces me to drive long hours on the overnight stretch, all other companions in the car asleep, my thoughts and the dark stretch of white-striped road all to myself. Having said that, I can happily keep busy inside my head, yet am distracted by so much of the larger world that I waste time putting those thoughts generated by those distractions down on cyber-paper. Maybe I want to see if anyone else feels likewise. Though not as bright, sharp or hard as a diamond, I am many faceted - esoteric in my literature, tending toward magic realism - pop-culture vulturish in my take on media - sentimental enough to cry at dog food commercials - and a lover of kitsch, like diners and other holes in the wall of life.

Visiting colleges

Muddy quads, walls bare
of ivy still inspire awe.
Can we get in?

Ithaca, NY

Ph.D.s waitress
here, M.A.s babysit, ’cause
no one wants to leave.

Driving home at sunset

Hills like cut paper
black against tissue blue skies.
Through poked holes, stars shine.

Why I’ve been absent

Haiku, like bonsai,
needs care and pruning. A mind
unfocused kills both.

Disorganized

Incrementally
I clean unearthing a clear
space on the table.

Why

on another blog
gross comment deposited
like defecation

Blog trolls

haven’t found me yet
they lurk like dirty water
under dark bridges

In memoriam: Mrs. G

Now that the snow is
gone, her neglected garden
pokes up stalks of loss.

Silda Wall Spitzer

Wan, pale, red-eyed, she’s
the poster wife of Wynette’s
song, “Stand By Your Man.”

Saving grace

While I throw pennies
into a coin jar, Bear Stearns
gets a big bailout.