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PAUL E NELSON

The latest harvest of 17 syllable poems from my daily discipline. See more about the form at www.AmericanSentences.com and thanks for reading. Comments welcome.

6.26.14 – Driving 34 a cherry pit’s distributed every two blocks.

6.29.14 – She talks about her one-eyed cat I say she’s looking at the wrong end.

7.4.14 – Happy Birthday America, take time to stop and smell the ordnance.

7.8.14 – Am beginning to think color of my shoelaces inadequate.

7.13.14 – How many pecks of blueberries can Ella eat before she will urp?

7.31.14 – Killing Palestinians, continuation of the peace process.

American Sentences in Puebla, Mexico

8.2.14 – Frida’s collection of musician dolls, a skeletal Lester Young.

8.3.14 – “I’m Columbian by birth, Mexican at heart, my stomach is gringo.”

(Juan Felix)

8.3.14 – Cross a Pomeranian w/ a Chihuahua & get a Pomihuahua.

(Melissa Brannon)

8.4.14 – Shadow of my hand in a cleansing latihan dancing on the floor.

8.6.14 – Shop for sombreros, some beauties, but my American head’s too big.

8.7.14 – Bapak: “I’ve given you rocket fuel & you use it like chicken shit.”

8.7.14 – Only at a World Congress would a performer have a backup mime.

8.7.14 – Only at Subud would that backup mime become foundation chair.

8.8.14 – Not sure which toilet button to press after Montezuma’s Revenge.

8.9.14 – Subud fashion show critique: “More fabric on the hats than the bodies.”

8.10.14 – “On a good Sunday we have 16 men moaning around in a circle.”

(P.S. Then  we do latihan.)

8.12.14 – Pablo feeding leftover chicarrónes to the Puebla pigeons.

8.16.14 – This Puebla bus driver in a previous life, a caballero.

8.19.14 – This Puebla sacramental marching band leaves a trail of rose petals.

End Puebla Sentences

8.22.14 – Harvest plums, blackberries, apples, lavender on my corridor walk.

8.23.14 – Dad would say while driving: “I’ve got two words for you and they ain’t ‘let’s dance!’”

9.7.14 – Plumber outside the café calls coffee: “a chemical vacation.”

9.18.14 – Warne Marsh on Tristano: “Finally form itself could be improvised.” (1949)

9.18.14 – Tristano freeing his musicians from the “tyranny of the brain.”

9.20.14 – I wanted to smash that fruit fly landed on Faiza’s white hijab.

9.22.14 – Too early in the season for frozen vomit on the side of the car.

9.22.14 – Dad after getting off his first (& only) monorail ride: “That’s it?!?”

9.26.14 – Fall winds liberate walnuts cracked open by vans delivering produce.

9.27.14 – Morning doppio at the corner of Blandena & Albina.

9.30.14 – One daughter says: “beep” for please, the other petitions for “warranted snark.”

10.2.14 – Blunck says his Senior Chief looked like “a cross between Hitler and Lurch.”

10.2.14 – His apartment’s a mixture of smells: “marijuana, piss, bacon.”

10.3.14 – I’m not sure Blunck knew Klook invented spang, spang-a-lang ride cymbal riff.

10.4.14 – For her birthday breakfast I decide against the meatball torpedo.

10.12.14 – More likely he’s chanting: “God is Almighty” than “God isn’t Whiny!”

10.13.14 – Why would a self-respecting Libra tattoo only one of her breasts?

10.14.14 – If a spoon and saliva’s involved, is a prostate exam legit?

Fallen Hawthorne Berries

Fallen Hawthorne Berries

10.16.14 – The same Hawthorne berries that’d cure my heart I crush under my keans.

10.16.14 – Are you sure you know what your corporate “healer” is trying to cure?

10.16.14 – How pitiful you, October lilac, and all your rotting blossoms.

10.17.14 – Twice sedated, a shaved paw and fatal I.V., goodbye Tupelo.

Goodbye Tupelo

Goodbye Tupelo