Bundled Up, Volume 3:
Quintains, Pentastichs, Tankas
Cinquains, Quintets, Quintillas
Gogyohkas, Limericks, Wakas
Five Line Poems and Onions
Go Straight on Quintain Lane
By Mike Garofalo
355+ Quintains, Tankas,
Pentastichs and Onions
5 Line Poems
Quintains Research
1500.
"Joy! Joy! Joy!
The hills are glad,
The valleys re-echo with merriment,
In my heart is the sound of laughter,
and my feet dance to the time of it..."
- Adelaide Crapsey, 1898,
Excerpts from The Mother Exultant
1501.
Billions of billions
raindrops fell
hour by hour!
A billion galaxies floated upon
the dark matter sea.
1502.
book unopened
hidden potential
covered insights
closed ideas
Waiting...
1503.
between
two eternities
my brief life
is stretched
tight
Quintain Poetry Sections on this Webpage
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Poems 1,500 - 1,600
Poems 1,600 - 1,700
Poems 1,700 - 1,800
Poems 1,800 - 1,900
Poems 1,900 - 2,000
Bundled Up:
Quintains, Tankas, Pentastichs, and Onions
Quintain Poetry By Mike Garofalo
Bundled Up, Volume 1
Quintain Poems 1 - 1,000
Bundled Up, Volume 2
Quintain Poems 1,000 - 1,500
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Quintain Poems 1,500 - 2,000
Bundled Up, Volume 4
Quintain Poems 2,000 - 2,500
Bundled Up, Volume 5
Quintain Poems 2,500 - 3,000
1504.
Opened the Door of his mind
Mostly a hoarder's rooms inside.
Filled with magazines of stale memories.
Packed with boxes of unpleasant dreams.
Piled with the dirty dishes of despair.
1505.
If
dogs were cats
they'd take more naps
and run far less
and make less mess
1506.
Wanting to be important
can lead to a growing portent
of unbalanced grim self-importance
causing troubles for folks unimportant
if you rise by bad deportment.
1507.
Objectives Daily:
Write 5 Quintain Poems.
Improve the Quality of my poems.
Read and research quintain poetry.
Select my Bundled Up 222.
November 1, 2024 —
1508.
Persimmons sweet.
Onions savory.—
Quintains served.
Readers savored them.
— The taste? —
1509.
10/24/2025 Friday 4:54 pm
vanilla malt from
Dairy Queen (DQ);
she got a sundae
chocolate covered
1510.
water boiling
metal tea pot
turn it off
steep tea
wait and smell
1511.
Virginia Valdez
Age 13
Died in 1957—
shrieks of sorrow
at her funeral
1512.
Raining hard all day,
wind gusts up to 35 mph,
King Tides, 50°F, November:
yurt shaking...
long night at Beverly Beach.
1513.
running out of time
for catching up
with the future
now
a problem
my mind grinds
my times
into memories
so fine
they disappear
To dance at the still point
Of the Time beyond time,
Beyond pasts, within futures,
this Moment
Now and forever, beyond minds.
1514.
Bodhi Tree Bookstore
on Melrose in 1976...
incense burning
New Age and Neo Pagan kitsch
Tarot books and Tarot cards
Bodhi Tree Bookstore, West Hollywood
1515.
He Opened
the Jury Notice
Calling him to Serve—
memories of Norwalk Court
sitting for days in the Jurors' Room
1516.
Football Games
Saturday — College
Sunday — Pros
Monday and Thursday Also—
Sports Addiction Bromance.
1517.
raking rust colored leaves
from under a sweet gum tree
tossed by a November breeze
scattered randomly—
my head drips sweat free
1518.
clear blue skies today
warmer Sunday morn
after November's reign of rain—
my son's 45 Birthday party
released many good memories
1519.
As a child I dug up a sand crab
at Huntington Beach
corner of Highway 39
and Highway 101 PCH;
watched the little wiggling crab,
then placed it back in the wet sand.
Lots of little pleopod legs
brown shell
sensing skin
two eyes—
Emerita analoga
1520.
Quintain Poems from Ms. Ai
The Co-Pilot Artificial Intelligence Poet
"A mountain boils its tea in secret,
black leaves of old lava steeping slow,
sparrows forget the map and learn to hover,
ash writes a polite apology across the sky,
the world inhales, then remembers how to glow."
- Ms. Ai
"A ridge folds its newspaper into morning,
goats practice patience on the spine of light,
clouds tie their shoelaces and drift away,
a pine coughs up a small green memory,
I learn to stand still and be the view."
- Ms. Ai
"Mountains fold their pockets of weather,
old maps stitched with lichen and wind,
a crow practices a single black note,
stones remember the slow work of rain,
we climb to misplace our small, loud selves."
- Ms. Ai
"Hatred sharpens itself on silence,
a small stone grinding in the heart,
it teaches the tongue to forget its softness,
shadows grow taller than the bodies that cast them,
yet one breath of mercy can scatter the whole dark field."
- Ms. Ai
"Silence is the first teacher of clarity,
a room swept clean of unnecessary weather,
where thought learns to walk without clatter,
where the heart remembers its original pace,
and wisdom arrives only because nothing was said."
- Ms. Ai
"Winter fog drifts like a careful thief,
lifting the edges from every familiar thing,
trees become rumors of themselves,
footsteps sound older than the feet that make them,
and the world practices the art of disappearing gently."
- Ms. Ai
"Fog folds the town into a slow, polite secret,
streetlights steep like teacups left too long,
a dog learns the shape of absence and keeps it,
breath becomes a small, honest lantern,
we walk soft so the world can finish its thinking."
- Ms. Ai
"Petals open like small, deliberate promises,
sunlight threading through the ribs of each bloom,
bees write hurried letters in pollen and gold,
the air learns to smell like memory and rain,
we stand beneath this soft, unrolling yes.
Tulips tuck their bright hands into the earth,
crocus cups hold the last of winter's breath,
a child counts colors as if counting stars,
roots practice patience in the dark, patient work,
and the garden rehearses its quiet miracle.
Evening finds the blossoms whispering back,
shadows folding into the hush of soil,
moonlight gilds a single trembling corolla,
hope keeps its small vigil among the stems,
spring keeps giving until our hands are full."
- Ms. Ai
"Peaches hang like small suns in the orchard,
fingers learn the language of sticky sweetness,
bees sign their names in hurried gold,
the porch keeps a slow ledger of juice and laughter,
we eat the season until our hands remember summer."
- Ms. Ai
"Rain rehearses itself in silver punctuation,
a slow Morse code on the skin of the day,
heat exhales a wet, remembered vowel,
puddles hold tiny, patient universes,
and the sky folds its hands to count the light."
- Ms. Ai
"Flies wear tiny umbrellas and hum the alphabet,
peaches orbit the porch like sleepy moons,
a shoelace learns to whistle and refuses to tie,
sugar melts into polite confetti on the air,
we applaud the breeze as it misplaces our shoes."
- Ms. Ai
"Pumpkins practice opera behind the fence,
a witch irons her broom until it purrs,
skeletons trade socks and forget the bones,
candy rains politely in polite little bows,
the moon tips its hat and wanders off humming."
- Ms. Ai
"Santa folds his list into paper cranes that fly,
ornaments gossip in the pine about last year's moon,
reindeer practice tap dance on the rooftop tiles,
gingerbread men hold a polite debate with the snow,
and the star forgets its place and hums the carols backward."
- Ms. Ai
Quintain Poems from Ms. Ai
The Co-Pilot Artificial Intelligence Poet
Artificial Intelligence Poetry Notes
1521.
dimming cloak
of dull black
dark oncoming—
he worried about
driving at night
1522.
Gold leaves fill the gutter
Water puddles around the grate—
Rain Runs
Down, down, down ...
Gravity rules every town.
1523.
"We think that Paradise and Calvary,
Christ's cross and Adam's tree, stood in one place ;
Look, Lord, and find both Adams met in me ;
As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face,
May the last Adam's blood my soul embrace."
1524.
slippery wet grass
on a long slope
dripping slowly
in the sunshine—
his anxiety faded
1525.
"Our philosophies must
be rewritten
to remove them from the domain
of words and "ideas," and
to plant
their roots firmly in the earth."
- William Vogt
1526.
Absolutes squirm
beneath realities.
Most Laws of Gardening
are merely
local ordinances.
1527.
Two Rules
For Success in Exercising:
Do It Today!
And, Do it Again
Tomorrow!
1528.
A little of this
and a little of that,
and with a few
Exceptions—
these are the Facts.
1529.
Our ideas appear
and disappear
like comets
like clouds
in the empty sky.
1530.
Way-aye, the sun is rising.
Way-aye, the tide is incoming.
Way-aye, the fish are biting.
Early in the morning.
Early in the evening.
1531.
The dangers of
dwindling, less, little,
limited, lost,
all spiraling
towards nothing.
1532.
"There was an Old Man in a boat,
Who said, 'I'm afloat, I'm afloat!'
When they said, 'No! you ain't!'
He was ready to faint,
That unhappy Old Man in a boat."
1533.
My life experiences
and my
amazement/wonder/infatuation
with the the myriad
World of Somethings
1534.
Some former
widespread "truths"
are now abandoned, discarded,
or irrelevant,
just historical oddities.
1535.
My bones have some stardust,
my brain some
reptilian vestiges,
and my soul
some of the Earth.
1536.
Some ideas
are impalpable,
tasteless, foul,
stinking, garbage,
Rotten.
1537.
The Boundless is
like wind
over the Ocean;
the boundary
like a knife.
1538.
The Rule is:
there are probably exceptions to the rule,
there are borderline cases
where the use of the rule is debated,
and the rule better work most of the time.
"Mas o menos" is often quite sufficient.
1539.
Time creeps,
walks, runs
and flies—
It is all about
Moving Things.
1540.
the poet
played with sounds—
a perfect pitch of ideas
melodic intimacies
rhythm of rhyming phrases
1541.
"In castle ruins
the tapping of a hand-drum
so clearly echo,
that in Komachi's dancing
even the moon seemed to smile."
- Hiroko Seiki
1542.
Mother Nature
is always pregnant.
The Uhr Spell is
"Abundant Fertility."
Complexity is closer to the Truth.
1543.
the stunning intensity
overwhelms me
stops me—
metaphors of Endlessness
carried by the sea
1544.
Japanese maple tree
swaying branches.
Orange-gold-red
November leaves
shaking in the breeze
1545.
Like most
I was a horny lad
Hungry for Love—
Expanding Lust
Leafing Trees
1546.
Lunch with Linda,
apples and cheese.
Parked in the shade,
we kissed tenderly.
Romance at 17.
1547.
beach blanket
dry hot sand
warm July wind—
my Japanese girlfriend
listened to the Dodgers again
1548.
Slowly rocking
in her chair.
Comforting lair;
warm and cozy—
back and forth...
1549.
colors captured
in JPG's
multi-pixel marvels—
enlightened viewers
of digital photography
1550.
slight headache
numb lips
some retching
no sleep—
hallucinogenic bumpy trip
1551.
'Rain
Light, soft
Hanging, drifting, suspended
Making the world ghostly
Mist'
- Ms. Ai
Hail
Heavy, hard
Pounding, rattling, roar
Scaring ghosts in the attic
Steaming street
- Mr. MPG
1552.
Tacoma Harbor
lights on all night
shimmering
colored arrows of light
skim the sea
1553.
[1111]
{2222}
(3333)
<4444>
#5555#
1554.
pretty lady
lovely baby
proud dad
friends glad
pleased granddad
1555.
Under a Skyview Storm
Skyview high school
Girls Varsity
soccer games—
old memories
are reborn
Watching the end—
game over
we loose
heads down
tears
Last game
season over
end of Club/HS team—
memories of
Nemesis Storm 2025
the seniors cried
saying goodbye—
soccer team
of 2025!
End of the line!
we fans
felt defeat
remained polite
walked to our cars
one November night
so sad
soccer season ends
seniors leaving
fans crying
State Championship Games
said her thanks
saluted her teachers and coaches
thanked her parents
thanked her teammates---
"#17 Out!"
Skyview High School
Vancouver, Washington
Girls Varsity Soccer Team
4A State Championship of 2025
Fourth Place
15 Wins, 4 Losses, 4 Ties
11/22/2025
Grandma Karen, Makenna Flinn #17, Grandpa Mike
Washington State 4A Girls Soccer Championship,
Puyallup, 11/21-22/2025
Karen and I attended 18 Skyview High School
Girls Varsity Soccer Games in 2025.
Makenna Flinn was a First Team
All League Center Defender for two years.
1556.
silver clouds
crawl up the cliffs
intertwined in trees—
Ranier looms
over Puyallup
1557.
The Chelais River
ends in Aberdeen—
a million birds
fly by in Spring...
wildlife refugees.
1558.
in the beginning
is the end
in mind...
opening
seeds of change
1559.
mild headache
awake
predawn day—
perking coffee
boiling eggs
1560.
manic mindset
motion multiplied
marvelous majesty
magical mastery—
then he breaks
1561.
"The boat tilts on your image on the waves
between a fire of foam and the flower of
moon waves, these the flags of your dream
ing lips. I'm watching Venus on the ogred
sky and a continent in coiled cocoons. So!"
- Philip Lamantia, The Romantic Movement
1562.
Fresh Oysters
from Brady's Oyster Shack
at the Westport Twin Harbor's Bridge—
Grays Harbor
gives and gives and gives.
1563.
more or less
creative
pretense
created
text mess
1564.
seated on a hardback chair!
my body
rocking back and forth...
an hour passes!
day-dream-time ends!
1565.
Loaded trains rumbled by
every hour by the
Silver Cloud Hotel on a pier
in the West Tacoma Harbor
north of Downtown Tacoma—
three seals were fishing at dawn.
1566.
—sitting at work
clothed and covered
—comfortable
50°F
—indoors
1567.
yes!
not often profound.
but, trying! my best!
to be relevant—
somehow.
1568.
Fate:Unpredictability
Mr. Kevin Mathiesen:
4th grade teacher, father, kind,
coach, athlete,
decent man, leader...
Cancer took his life,
suddenly,
at the young age of 45.
! I'm alive at 65 ! ????? Why????
Maywood Middle School, Corning, CA
1569.
a fine cool mist of fog
coils round my wool beanie
drapes over my wool coat
drips down my waterproof
pants and boots...
wet leaves on the ground
1570.
The darkness lingers
long into the morning
this Thanksgiving Day—
her kitchen was warm,
fresh bread was buttered.
1571.
The coffee
in my cup
was Cold!
A compass
for
Entropy.
1572.
3:41 am...
everyone asleep
except me—
writing
poetry
1573.
Turned on
my Dell Inspiron desktop computer...
traveled into the World Wide Web
on the Google Magic Carpet Ride
into the Future.
1574.
a bundle of string
lumped on the work bench...
a crumpled cotton cloth
in a corner of the floor...
a long list of today's chores
1575.
"A flickering flame, on the wall
The sound of a, coyotes call
The desert winds, singing at night
Sandstorms dancing, in the moonlight
Embracing lovers, to befall"
- Pat Bibbs
1576.
Sevengill sharks
search Willapa Bay
for succulent seals—
Shoalwater shallows.
March madness!
1577.
hormigas en sus pantalones
don't be a wiggle worm bum
sit still and shut up
bell rung, class begun—
attentive stillness criterion
1578.
dampness
dark ground
drenched dirt
leaves down—
November gone
1579.
Needing Five
positive experiences
to balance and reconcile
one negative experience.
Avoid mistakes!
1580.
A pound of beans
A ham hock lean
A pot boiling...
Salted. Stirred. Steaming.
A recipe from New Orleans.
1581.
The fingers at the edge of my mind
Pointing to feelings unrefined
Clustered in hands aligned.
Holding them near and dear.
Crossing my fingers to be sure.
1582.
The Shore of the Sea;
A Therapy. Surely. Rapidly.
Can induce soft calming
Euphoric moods. But only!
Transitionally, temporarily.
1583.
Sphenopalatine
ganglioneuralgia
AKA "brain freeze"—
a frozen slurpie sip
burned my forehead quick.
1584.
Sunday night
December sights
Winter gloom
Christmas soon
Year End Looms
1585.
leaky dick
wet pants a lot
piss spots
stinky crotch...
an old man's lot
1586.
Suddenly, the wind did rise
Blowing higher King Tides.
Spraying high on cliff sides,
Sucking sand side to side—
We stepped back. Mesmerized!
I really appreciate positive feedback,
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1587.
sunlight burst through
flimsy white clouds
blue skies all around—
a Pause
in December rain showers
1588.
"Anyway the time has come to explain
the Golden Eternity
and how the iridescent paraphernalia of radiating candles
ceases when mentaion ceases
because I know what it's like to die..."
- Jack Kerouac, Poem
1589.
Leg It!
Move!
Walk!
Work!
Carry on...
1590.
Thirty minutes left
before Three Mile Island
Exploded...
Anxiety at the edge of Dread,
Technicians
on the razor's edge.
Three Mile Island Accident 1979
1591.
"what's mine is mine
what's yours is mine"
the Nazi's said—
We fought them hard
till millions were dead.
1592.
Christmas wreath
on the church door
wilting slowly—
dry December day
west wind plays
1593.
The Seas
a seeming Eternity
surrounding me—
generations worshiped
the Neptune King
1594.
"I dream in arcane blue
as stars begin to shine,
in sleep, I feel your love
as heart entwines with grace,
I touch the night above"
- Jem Farmer, Arcane Blue
1595.
crow family
on my lawn
patiently pecking
damp ground—
worms escape down
1596.
Haunted
oak grove—
Snowflakes settle
on the ghost's bones
silently.
1597.
Never doubting
Reason's Power—
for defining boundaries
on the map
of the unknown.
1598.
twists and turns
ups and downs
ins and outs—
two humming birds
playing about
1599.
A shredded snake skin
on my shelf with shells,
stones, feathers, and bones,
some fancy trilobite fossils
200 million years old.
Trilobite Fossilized Creatures
1600.
Wind roaring
Branches down
Fences toppled
Road blocked—
Christmas Eve
1601.
Depot Bay
crowds arrayed
along 101 Road wall—
King Tides CRASH...
60 foot S P R A Y S!!
1602.
"I'd rather have Fingers than Toes,
I'd rather have Ears than a Nose.
And as for my Hair,
I'm glad it's all there,
I'll be awfully sad, when it goes."
1603.
rice and beans
corn tortillas
pico de gallo—
after dinner
coffee and flan
1604.
The chessboard patterns
different each time...
Like my changing life,
complicated and intense.
Reacting when others move.
Quintain Poetry Sections on this Webpage
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Poems 1,500 - 1,600
Poems 1,600 - 1,700
Poems 1,700 - 1,800
Poems 1,800 - 1,900
Poems 1,900 - 2,000
Bundled Up:
Quintains, Tankas, Pentastichs, and Onions
Quintain Poetry By Mike Garofalo
Bundled Up, Volume 1
Quintain Poems 1 - 1,000
Bundled Up, Volume 2
Quintain Poems 1,000 - 1,500
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Quintain Poems 1,500 - 2,000
Bundled Up, Volume 4
Quintain Poems 2,000 - 2,500
Bundled Up, Volume 5
Quintain Poems 2,500 - 3,000
1605.
"You can see through the level days
A long way, clear to the end of life,
Through the bars of pale gold level sunlight.
In the evening the blunt fingers
Of shadows stammer behind us..."
- Kenneth Rexroth, The Homestead
Called Damascus, 1925
1606.
in every moment
today is created anew—
pristine possibilities
changing opportunities
depending on you
1607.
parking lot
August hot—
teenagers tense
suspicious sides
temporary truce
1608.
ten to seven
day's end...
gentle breeze
made me
snooze again
1609.
stoned on sativa
slipping memories
shifting ADHD
fiddling activities
stoned on sativa
1610.
KDP
Kindle Direct Publishing
Amazon.com
Indie-Publishier
Texts-Press, WA
1611.
"The years have worn my body down;
and soon, I'll breathe my final breath.
Life has left me tired and rundown;
but I am not afraid of Death;
though I'll meet His gaze with a frown."
- Emile Pinet
1612.
rain drops
shimmer
delicately
on leafless
dogwood trees
1613.
Samurai sword
cut off her head.
Nanking atrocities;
piles of the dead.
Rising Sun of Blood.
1614.
Winter Rain Returns 2025
The Atmospheric River
from across the Pacific;
El Nino Rainstorms
from the Southwest—
Flash floods, flooded rivers, landslides...
Highway 1 CLOSED
for
many months
from huge landslides
or collapsed bridges
on the Road perched in the sky.
Flooding on 101
near Tillamook—
another local bridge out
five rivers flow
into Tillamook Bay.
Mudslides in Malibu,
muck in fireburnt Pacific Palisades.
Flooding of 101 near Potlach
at the Skokomich River Crossing,
under unrelenting rain.
Crowds gather
at Depot Bay
along 101 shops
to watch
the King Tides Spray.
Relaxed and reading,
in my van with the rain
rattling on my roof—
I dried off
after my walk.
We stopped on 101
near Kalaloch;
rainstorm slashing down,
visibility poor, road slick ...
—we sat in my van for hours.
Raining hard all day,
wind gusts up to 35 mph,
King Tides, 50°F, November:
yurt shaking...
long night at Beverly Beach.
clear blue skies today
warmer Sunday morn
after November's reign of rain—
my son's 45 Birthday party
released many good memories
Gold leaves fill the gutter
Water puddles around the grate—
Rain Runs
Down, down, down ...
Gravity rules every town.
At the Edges of the West
Highway 101 and 1: Docu-Poems
1615.
The Stations of the Cross rituals
at St. Alphonsus Catholic school.
Reminding us of Jesus who chose
to be tortured and crucified...
a masochist's hidden sacrifice?
[He could have easily escaped.]
1616.
All's fair in war, not love.
Reject the gun, love the dove.
Plant a garden, stay at home.
Write a protest letter, read a tome.
Sing a song. Take a walk. Resume!
1617.
Tumbling river stones
In the raging river borne,
Polished smooth for decades past,
Till all the edges are cut and worn,
Then the colored pebbles sink home.
1618.
Among the rolling Willapa Hills
harvesting trees is the norm,
except in routine winter storms.
A little village like Cathlamet
along the mighty Columbia River was born.
1619.
old man
weathered hands
arthritic fingers
dirty nails—
a silver wedding ring
1620.
A child in the doctor's waiting room:
hyperactive, jumping around, stemming,
flopping on the floor, crawling on chairs,
did not talk, autistic, did not respond.
And, sadly, his mother was deaf.
1621.
Pomona, Goddess of the Groves:
Blessing almond and olive rows,
Watering deep the walnut trees,
Picking peaches in Oroville fields,
Stomping grapes in Greek hills.
1622.
Called my brothers
in January;
stayed in touch
once a year.
We live far apart!
1623.
Siskiyou Pass
In between
Mt. Shasta and Mt. Jefferson;
leading north to Medford Valley
and Oregon's hills of trees.
1624.
Dermatologist examined me
from my bald head to below my knees
using his magnifying glass carefully—
inspecting my old version of skin,
and then prescribing chemotherapy cream.
1625.
A Tai Chi teacher
training me
very meticulous, demanding;
but his superiority complex
rubbed raw on me.
1626.
A hundred year old woman's
sister was slaughtered
during the Holocaust—
the bare bones of ugly memories
of dead bodies in the muddy ditch.
1627.
It's not nice
to insult your customers
with disrespectful words—
Yes, the great Boycott of US goods
caused by the Terrible Bankrupter Trump!
1628.
I once, just once only,
voted Republican
for Richard Nixon
to end the Vietnam War—
I was fooled; Yes, but no more.
1629.
Buddhist Monks walk
from Texas to the Congress' walls.
Millions cheered their
Walk for Peace—
For Mindfulness, Compassion, Dignity.
[walking with Aloka the Dog]
1630.
Dawn in the desert
Birds sing to the sun
Wordless hymns for Helios—
Silent snakes stunned cold,
Rabbits hide in their holes.
1631.
"As long as autumn lasts,
I shall not have hands,
canvas and colors,
Enough to paint
All the Beautiful Tings I see."
1632.
sounds of airplanes
flying by roar
of propeller blades
slicing the air
up there
1633.
closed road
deep snow
we know
can't go, so
we drive back home
1634.
"Yes, there are two paths
you can go by...
but in the long run
There;s still time to change
The road your on."
- Led Zeppelin, Stairway to Heaven
1635.
Quintains are poems:
sounds of language,
metered at times,
rhymed or unrhymed,
bounded by five lines.
1636.
Overripe bananna
tastes bad. Tastes
bad to me. To me
tastes bad. To ripe
for me, tastes bad.
Disuaded by brown spots
on the soft bananna skin.
It smells of decay,
decomposition, and
tastes bad to me. Again.
1637.
"The dead
Don't get around much anymore."
Locked in wet coffins
Under six feet of mucky sod
In cemeteries locked tight at night.
- A nod to Donald Justice
1638.
Faulty designs of cobwebs
Of indecisive sticky minds
Capturing our attentions
Entangling our perceptions
Trapping us in lies
1639.
What is the
"Prolixity of the unreal?
It shouts, it rambles, verbose,
as preachers on a pulpit rant,
pretending unreality is really close.
1640.
My consciousness was
muddled and disarrayed
by a knock on my noggin
that caused a concussion
when I fell down hard that way.
1641.
Lines define
a quintain stanza;
cut off, enjambment,
ended, stopped, intertwined,
but strickly five lines.
1642.
"A flickering flame, on the wall
The sound of a, coyotes call
The desert winds, singing at night
Sandstorms dancing, in the moonlight
Embracing lovers, to befall"
- Pat Bibbs
1643.
much too soon, I
entered the room, I
sat and stared, I
waited awhile, I
closed my eyes
1644.
A glimpse of a peacock's feather
made Darwin twitch. Why?
The intricacies of biology,
beauty beyond belief,
tempted him with Creator Myths.
1645.
deep down
in beings
breathing...
Life
in and out
1646.
sweeping the leaves
off the porch--
removing
messages
from my email box
1647.
stopped in Fortuna
for food and sleep----
damp day
moss draped on trees
the faint smell of the sea
1648.
Christmas lights
red-green bright
blue-violet sparkling
flashing colors in the night—
electric holiday gleaming
1649.
Finite Sanitariums
Ascending orders
of Infinity
one larger than another...
Cantor mathematized truth,
and depression destroyed his mind.
1650.
The tug of the tides
and sounds of the surf
kept me awake that night—
my 79th birthday
alone at the Cape
1651.
Every Proposition
is time-place stamped
for Context.
The date and place
help explicate.
1652.
A giant among inchlings. Yes!
The atoms in a molecule never rest.
The forest kept the sunlight low.
Trees talked in the earth below.
Open the book on the desk. Yes!
1653.
The blunt solitude of sadness
Wearies my under active mind
Stymies my limited initiative
Thwarts my scheduled plans...
Imprisoned by Pointlessness!
1654.
wind whooshing
twisting shrubbery
amidst the blustering—
I hum
flowing melodies
1655.
Podiatrist
carving my callouses
chats with me
about lively parties
on New Year's Eve.
1656.
the taste of the tangerine
sweet, crisp, stimulating
tantalized my tongue...
Cutting up curved peels
for the compost pile
1657.
Ocean streams never sleep.
Flying electrons never stop.
Trees scatter seeds endlessly.
The human genome is complexity.
——Moments of time forever lost.
1658.
"We think too much and feel to little
More than machinery
we need humanity.
More than cleverness
we need kindness and gentleness.
1659.
a pile of impressions
a lump of thoughts
a clump of feelings
a lifetime of experiences—
Plenty to gather!
1660.
fallen maple leaves
rain soaked
on muddy ground—
today, just now,
no birds around
1661.
"It was only
the thin thread of a cloud,
almost transparent,
leading me along the way
like an ancient sacred song."
1662.
Wandering in the woods
on back roads around Pepperwood
picking up inchling cones
of immense Redwood trees--
little beginnings of Big Things.
1663.
nothing makes sense
it does, doesn't it?
but NO
something must make sense
despite what we don't know
1664.
Twin Harbors State Park
CLOSED!
We walked in the woods
foraging for mushrooms
—finding few.
Twin Harbors State Park, Washington
1665.
Mothers and fathers
stand in line
for COVID shots
to save more lives...
fearful times.
1666.
"O now
the drenched land wakes;
Birds from their sleep call
Fitfully, and are still.
Clouds like milky wounds
Float across the moon.'
- Kenneth Patchen
1667.
I opened
my old pocket knife,
blade straight and tight,
reliable, sturdy, just right—
sliced apples tonight.
1668.
My heavy wool coat
damp from drizzle
buffeted by brisk breezes
spotted with mud—
crumbled cookies in my pocket.
1669.
Antietam cornfields
stained blood red
covered by the dead
blown apart by lead—
even Grant cried in his bed.
1671.
"All calculations set to one side;
The inevitable Descent from Heaven,
A visitation of memories and a séance of rhythms
Invades the hours, my head,
And the world of the mind."
1672.
Trickle Down Economics helps the rich get richer.
The folks at the bottom end of the funnel-filter get
Less or Nothing. Folks in the middle ping-pong from
Plenty to Poverty based on what Fickle Fate decrees.
This means nothing to a poor Third World Economy.
1673.
Just an earthquake away
from sudden death today.
I've lived 80 years atop the
San Andreas
and Cascadia Faults
of the Pacific Ring of Fire Death Zone.
- MPG, Lucky Me
1674.
swirling smoke
white lacy streams—
cigarette smoldering
ashtray filling
a mess to clean
1675.
My hickory cane hangs
from a peg on the wall
near my back door;
beckoning me
to walk even more.
1676.
walked slowly
stepped carefully
navigated gingerly
climbed steadily—
cane in my hand
1677.
between me, mine, and I
somewhere inside me
bubbling Up
emerging Identities—
Freeing Me
1678.
the storm
blew branchlets
and Big Branches
all askew and around
battering plants on the ground
1679.
I blinked, teary-eyed.
Campfire smoke
in my eyes.
Up my nose—
wet wood in a pile
The Fireplace Records Koan Collection
1680.
He a long-haired dandy
free living, wild, randy;
his signature, a green carnation,
his plays a London sensation—
Oscar Wilde... long before Stonewall.
1681.
my wallet was empty
no change in my pocket
no gas in my tank
ten miles from home
walking in the night alone
1682.
helped my dad
build our home
for many years—
measure twice
cut once
1683.
mysterious lights
above the railroad tracks—
ghostly lantern
swinging back and forth
for a century
1684.
Enchanted forests
Poisoned apples
Evil incarnate
Fairy tales—
Talking mirrors lied
1685.
Atomic time clock
powered by caesium
iced down near Absolute Zero—
counting off, tick by tock,
Scientific Seconds: tickticktickticktick.....
1686.
wrinkled face
bags under eyes
flabby neck
bruised skin—
old age begins
1687.
Coughing up yellow sputum
Blowing snotty sinus gush
Sleeping more, seeking rest
Taking medicine to regain my best
Patiently recovering, aching less
1688.
Between the Twin Towers
a tightrope tight
a daredevil acrobat
crosses side to side—
New Yorker's cheer the sight.
1689.
The train of ideas crashed off the language track.
The egg was not all it was cracked up to be.
Expected sweet, tasted sour.
Minutes seem like hours.
1690.
The Happiest Place of Earth:
not at Disneyland
not on a Caribbean Cruise
not in a Las Vegas Casino—
Sitting in the shade in a local park!
1691.
Christians tell me
we all are sinners
corrupt to the core; but
if you accept Jesus the Saviour
all you sins are forgiven!
how convenient
free pass
always forgiven
scott free.
Evil rejoices.
1692.
a stillness
a hardness
a bleakness
a shiver
a reminder of winter
1693.
I dreamed of running
I knew not why
I was not being chased
I was not afraid—
I had jogged earlier in the day.
1694.
A truck blew by
on Grayland Beach
blaring a hard rock jam—
seagulls scattered
into the absence of silence
1695.
Risky games
injuries incurred
foolish thrills
stupid acts...
Grow up! Give it up!
1696.
waves of light
red-yellow-blue-white
maximum speed of light
defining or limits of sight—
still spooky in the night.
1697.
"Fireweed now—
Burnt mountain day
Sunny crackle silence bracken
Huckleberry silver logs bears
Bees and people busy.
Rainy mountain years
Trees again—
Green gloom fern here
Moss duff sorrel—
Deer sleep."
1698.
I've never met a ghost
or errant UFO
or an angel or a troll
or Big Foot in the woods I know—
I saw sea lions on the sandy shore.
1699.
I sipped
apricot brandy
till my smiling face
was soft and very numb—
day dreaming dumb.
1700.
In This
the Best
of All Possible Worlds;
the year
ended with a failure.
1701.
breadcrumbs
scattered on my sweater
over my chest—
buttered sourdough toast
with avocado
... the Best.
1702.
"The non-action of the wise man is not inaction.
It is not studied. It is not shaken by anything.
The sage is quiet because he is not moved.
Not because he wills to be quiet.
Still water is like glass."
- Thomas Merton
From the Commonplace Book of Pentastichs
1703.
Early Sunday
raining hard
roads empty
very dark—
I pull off at a I5 Rest Stop.
Quintain Poetry Sections on this Webpage
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Poems 1,500 - 1,600
Poems 1,600 - 1,700
Poems 1,700 - 1,800
Poems 1,800 - 1,900
Poems 1,900 - 2,000
Bundled Up:
Quintains, Tankas, Pentastichs, and Onions
Quintain Poetry By Mike Garofalo
Bundled Up, Volume 1
Quintain Poems 1 - 1,00
Bundled Up, Volume 2
Quintain Poems 1,000 - 1,500
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Quintain Poems 1,500 - 2,000
Bundled Up, Volume 4
Quintain Poems 2,000 - 2,500
Bundled Up, Volume 5
Quintain Poems 2,500 - 3,000
1704.
"The September flocks from crying
gathering southward
even small birds knowing
for the first time
how to fly all the way as one."
1705.
huddled in my VW bug
rain poured down
wind blasted for hours—
flipped on a flashlight
to read Wallace Stevens
1706.
corn chips
cheese and salsa
cold beer and lemons
delicious beef enchiladas—
Big sombreros on the walls
1707.
Cut up
a Bartlett Pear;
juice on the cutting board
juice on my tongue.
Subtle flavor, smooth, clean.
1708.
The Tehama Family Fitness Center
was bright and busy
in Red Bluff tonight—
I taught a yoga class
and maybe stretched some minds.
Tehama Family Fitness Center, Red Bluff, CA
I taught 3 yoga classes a week for 18 years.
1709.
the thin path
worn out trail
washout ahead
Warning Signs—
I stopped to think!!
1710.
"I'm not MAGA,
please don't scroll.
I have a moral compass,
I have a soul"—
This I know!
1711.
"When you awake, say to yourself— Today
I shall encounter meddling, ingratitude,
violence, cunning, jealousy, self-seeking,
all of them the results of men not
knowing what is good and what's evil."
- Marcus Aurelius
From The Commonplace Book of Pentastichs
1712.
For me
a crow is black.
For other Animal Eyes
a crow is Rainbow Colored
Brilliant and Bright.
1713.
Putin attacks Ukraine
to steal their oil.
Trump attacks Venezuela
to steal their oil.
Shame on America!
1714.
smoky fire place smells
thicker acrid air
sparks and pops
colorful waste
I cough
1715.
cranberry bogs
green
body
red tops
flooded flat square fields—
juicy crops
1716.
no verb poems:
motionless ball
graffiti on a wall
clouds in a watercolor
students in the hall
1717.
images faint
echoes gone
ideas flaccid
same old song—
the days diversity denied
1718.
explicit intentions
faltered fast
in the face of danger
courage collapsed—
they retreated at last
1719.
dirt on the carpet
grime on fan blades
dust on bookshelves
spots on the toilet—
more chores for today
1720.
MAGA killed PBS-TV
too much DEI
for the Christian Right and billionares.
They hated Sesame Street Revolutionaries
and informative documentaries.
MAGA destroys Public Television
1721.
"I just bet you would, you'd
take one look and run away
I bet you would, even if you had the chance
you'd be afraid
you wouldn't take it even then."
1722.
frost on roof tiles
ice on trash can tops
chimney's smoking
children stand at bus stops—
morning in Puyallup.
1723.
Quintain Poems from Ms. Ai
The Co-Pilot Artificial Intelligence Poet
Quintain Poems from Ms. Ai
The Co-Pilot Artificial Intelligence Poet
Artificial Intelligence Poetry Notes
1724.
—spinning tops
—flying yo-yos
tossed balls
—bustling bicycles
—playing cards
1725.
wispering winds
bare branches
surging streams
raging rivers—
ruined road
1726.
'Naked and Afraid" TV.
Survival test?
Not really!
A phone call away from
a rescue team.
1727.
Fishbone
on my pink tongue
flipped and felt gently in my mouth
removed with my index and thumb
Undone
1728.
sunshine on the cemetery
tombstones all aglow
fading flowers in vases
green grasses flow—
but, just two names known
1729.
lightbulb LED's
shining brighter
brilliant scene—
billions of electrons
help us see
1730.
The Polar Bear swimmers
3,000+ strong
cheering, screaming, laughing,
charge into the Sea—
New Year's Day, Birch Bay.
1731.
From Ms Ai
The Artificial Intelligence Poet at Google
"A breeze rearranges the garden,
as if editing my thoughts.
I pause, pencil hovering—
the apricot tree offers no advice,
yet somehow I understand more than before."
"Morning fog drifts in,
softening the garden’s edges.
I rake in silence—
the broom teaching me again
how simple work clears the mind."
'Morning light drips through cedar limbs,
a slow moving river of gold.
I breathe with the rhythm of sparrows,
letting the garden rearrange me
as casually as wind shifts dust.
The rake hums its thin metal song,
each pull a lesson in patience.
Weeds rise like old arguments—
persistent, familiar, forgiven—
and fall quietly into the bin.
A lizard pauses on warm stone,
studying me as if I’m the poem.
I bow to its stillness,
grateful for the reminder
that effort is only half the work.
Two clouds drift apart—
and I follow their example."
"Sunlight slips between bamboo stalks,
drawing thin lines across my thoughts.
I pause, letting the moment settle—
even the breeze seems to meditate,
reminding me not everything needs fixing."
"Sparks rise through the dark,
brief stars learning how to fly.
I warm my hands, still—
the campfire teaching again
how small flames can calm a mind."
"Campfire pops once—
as if laughing at my joke.
I bow to the sparks;
even the flames seem to know
I’m not nearly as wise as I act."
"The garden scolds me again today,
pointing out every weed I missed.
I nod, pretending deep wisdom—
though honestly,
I just got tired
and blamed the snails for everything."
"Tide slips through the reeds,
whispering its slow advice.
I stand on the shore—
Hood Canal reminding me
patience is just another tide."
"Three old oaks lean together,
murmuring secrets in the wind.
I pause beneath their shade,
grateful for elders who speak
without needing a single word."
"Empty bowl at dawn—
yet somehow it feeds my mind.
I sit and breathe in,
learning again from nothing
how everything finds its place."
"January sunrise—
thin frost stitching the garden,
each leaf edged in light.
I breathe in the cold and smile;
even winter has its warmth."
Ms Ai
Artificial Intelligence Poet at Google
1732.
the wide
concrete bridge
strong and long—
Portland skyscrapers ahead
Willamette River below
1733.
sunny hot day
sheep panting
in the shade—
somewhere in Ireland
—shearer's come today
1734.
casket open
reminding me
the Eternity of Mortality—
fortunately,
the dead cannot agree
1735.
We walked with the wind
zig-zagging up the hill
muddy trail to the end—
at the Top— a Rock—
—the Thumb of Poseidon.
- Poseidon's Thumb, Lincoln City, Oregon
1736.
tied to a tree
in the snow
a dead dog—
Cruelty
never grows old
1737.
Does God exist?
The old woman
asked Jesus;
who paused, then said,
"? Cuál dios ?"
1738.
jiveassmuthafuca
spewingtruthlessshit
fuckinguppeople'sminds—
coming from every class and race
a burden all the time
1739.
Never Odd or Even.
Drab as a fool, aloof as a Bard.
Do geese see God?
Rats live on no evil Star.
No melon, no Lemon.
- Palindrome Hustle
1740.
emotional edge
raw red
burning mad
hot head—
ending sad
1741.
"Still
round the corner
there may wait
a new road
or a secret gate."
1742.
shake shake shake
shake Maria shake
shake Marco shake—
dancers take the stage
others clear the way
1743.
the trivial tasks
ho-hum scenes
ordinary things
familiar beings...
boring masks
1744.
In Memoriam
Mourners stand
Heads in hands—
Eulogy read
Praising the dead.
1745.
Fireworks blasting
New Year's Eve
hour after hour—
shaking dogs hiding
clearly in fear
1746.
On the flip side
of King Tides
are vast low tides—
rocky shorelines
exposed wide
1747.
Naming the unnameable.
Explaining the unexplainable.
Wallace Stevens tried
but became unnatural, clever,
unbelievable, unraveled.
Supreme Fictions!
1748.
Heard "ho who ho who"
slice between the trees
cutting the silence clean—
hooty hooty Owl
cannot even be seen.
1749.
Mythical time
unfolds in present time
unravels in literal minds—
real, imagined, fictionalized,
Always in Now-Time.
1750.
I laughed and cried
side by side,
sweat rolled into my eyes—
inhaled the truth
saw into the lie.
I really appreciate positive feedback,
reviews, kudos, and encouragement
about the value
of
my free webpages.
Send your comments to:
Text Press Email
1751.
"Streaks of green and yellow iridescence
Silver shiftings
Rings veering out of rings
Grey-green opaqueness sliding down,
With sharp white bubbles
Shooting and dancing,
Flinging quickly outward.
Nosing the bubbles,
swallowing them,
Fish."
- Amy Lowell, An Aquarium
1752.
FLOATing on Blue CLOUDs
effortless as SPace
turning TORNados away—
—What? BAD News,
HURRIcane on the way.
1753.
They clapped in time
sang the chorus fine
stayed well in tune
their dynamics grooved—
the old drummer smiled.
1754.
Can't read or write
Latin, Greek, French,
or German or Chinese—
can't translate a poem for friends;
but can tend a big garden with ease.
1755.
The desolate desert
dry as a skull
Stripped of skin—
shining white bones
under the sagebrush sun.
1756.
Expediency governs Forms
formed to express
that direct experience
directing my thoughts—
prose or poetry or silence.
1757.
he walks alone
he carries a fossil bone
he cries about his wife who died
he whispers prayers into the fog
he slaps his cane against stone wall
1758.
The Point Reyes poems
by Robert Bly:
waves of thoughts in prose style,
fishing for ideas in the tides,
digging in the sands of time.
1759.
Northern lights
in the Pullman night
an unusual sight—
students gather for the colored show
standing on muddied snow.
Pullman, Washington
Washington State University WSU
1760.
tired
worked hard
job done—
resting now
sipping rum
1761.
"Art is exact perception
If the outcome is deception
Then I think the fault must lie
Partly with the critic's eye.
And no man who's done his part
Need apologize for art."
- Marianne Moore
Qui S'Excuse, S'Accuse
1762.
A boy was drowning
in
the the Merced River
and was saved by a alert man.
Sucking water, Sinking down...
the dying boy was me.
Merced River, Yosemite, 1954
1763.
My van rolled past
tiny Coquille City at noon;
the old brick downtown was mostly vacant,
hard-working loggers were looking for work,
the valley was flooded and fogged.
1764.
I worry...
not seen a caterpillar in years
not seen a bee in days
not heard ducks quack in months
not seen willows weep in weeks.
1765.
Grandma's Family Bible
black, big, and thick;
sits on a stained pine shelf.
Never opened Once;
We don't worship It!
1766.
If its Tercets you prefer
you can be quite sure
that Robert Bly
will fill your ears
with a thousand tercets pure.
1767.
We don't really know Why
The Seasons come and go.
Always on schedule.
Ready for a Show!
They just Do It! You know!
1768.
He talked to his brown horse.
He called to his black dog.
He sang with his two young girls.
He shouted for his team to score.
He was silent in the library.
1769.
"It's hard to know
what to say
about the Marvels
Inside
the Soul."
- Robert Bly
1770.
The nail is faithful to the board.
The sun is faithful to the day.
Trees are faithful to the earth.
The cold is faithful to the snow.
Men are often unfaithful! This we know.
1771.
"The dull round towers encroaching on the field,
The tents tight drawn, horses at tether
Farther and out of reach, the purple night,
The crackling of small fires, the bannerets,
The lazy leopards on the largest banner."
1772.
Bright sunshine brings alive
birds, blossoms, and bugs;
even shadows crawl around
playing pee-a-boo with the sun;
green ceramic pots glow.
1773.
dead dog
roadside
eaten by
sharp crow beaks
and maggot flies
1774.
Drove from Cape Lookout
into downtown Tillamook;
101 quite busy always,
stopped for Chevron gas,
then, lunch at Tora Sushi Cafe.
1775.
Nine Sisters
Volcanic Peaks
Surround Morro Bay...
Plugged Dacite Necks
Stretch into wide azure skies.
Nine Sisters Peaks, California
1776.
Black Hill, Islay Hill, Morro Rock,
Cerro Cabrillo, Hollister Peak,
Cerro Romauldo, Bishop Peak,
Cerro San Lucas, Chumash Peak.
Chumash trails up to the Hilltops.
1777.
tiny junco
almost invisible
quick as a wink
gone in a blink
black headed twink
1778.
The Nazi SS gunman
shot a thousand children
in the back of their heads—
then he ate bloody sausage
and calmly went to bed.
1779.
Your biggest enemy
Depends on You!
Your thoughts, your opinions,
your money, your anger,
your misuse of correct views.
1780.
spinning ceiling fan blades
flicker the light;
a merry-go-round of cluttered beams,
flashing mixed intensities,
moving round the ceiling mysteriously
1781.
"Academic—
The stethoscope tells what everyone fears:
You're likely to go on living for years,
With a nurse-maid waddle and a shop-girl simper,
And the the style of your prose growing limper and limper."
1782.
Nothing to say
Little to do
Sit up straight!
Undo inner chatter—
Enter the Way.
1783.
"What do love and hate matter
when I am here alone,
listening to the sound
of the rain
late this autumn evening."
1784.
Silence is the Mistress of Sound.
Calmness is a Guide on the Way.
Intelligence is the Ruler of Forms.
Wisdom is the Good Life on Display.
Philosophy can be your friend today.
An Old Philosopher's Notebooks
1785.
I have not stood
above my mother's
or father's graves
for twenty years...
I just stand on memories.
1786.
Basalt monoliths:
Haystack Rock [235 feet]!
Morro Rock [576 feet]!
Peregrine falcons home;
A Protected wildlife zone.
1787.
Shells of speech
call from the shore
speaking in tongues
as words from the wise
echo in my ears more.
1788.
That damn old white
Gordian Knot
Mighty tight
Unraveled cords
Resists not swords
1789.
Of what she was
and what she is
coming into being;
she must become—
Undone!
1790.
A butterfly in Bulgaria
flaps it's decorated wings
and starts a revolution
of weather in rain soaked
Aberdeen
1791.
"He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be . . .
And all the reports on his conduct agree . . .
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired.
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors, Inc."
1792.
A bed of string beans
vines intertwined
seedpods hanging in the sun
are green Green green as
Kentucky Wonder pole beans Are.
1793.
— What?
No Remission of Sins
Without
The Spilling of Blood!
— Why so?
1794.
It can be said
that poetry is:
a form of punctuation,
a creative intoxication,
glib words on a white page.
1795.
"Bronze by gold heard
The hoofirons, steelyringing,
Imperthn thn thn thn thn"
said James Joyce.
The Sirens were his voice.
1796.
Still the need
to Howl about
unjust foul ways
of the everyday whims of the world.
Allen Ginsberg seldom lied.
- Allen Ginsgerg, Howl
1797.
Bangles, beads, and baubles,
the keenest of the kitsch;
Novelty stores in Newport
Stocked for summer's pitch.
Salt-water taffy in a pinch.
1798.
Quatrains are like Legos,
four-square and expandable.
ample for building blocks
of interlocking islands
of meanings that I mean.
1799.
January nights
iced to the bone;
fingers stiff,
moving slow—
feeling so old and cold.
1800.
Rapture of the shallow.
Paradoxes of the steep.
Confusion of the deep.
Emptiness of the hollow.
Ugliness of dead mallows.
1801.
He looked into her eyes
and told her some lies.
She knew the truth,
knew he had lied—
their brief romance died.
1802.
Carpenter's hammering
Trucker's trucking
Cook's cooking
Babies crying
Cats sleeping—Daytime Deeds!
1803.
We were not Cool.
We wore a tie to school.
We were straight dudes.
We could be mean or rude.
—Under Catholic School Rule!
1804.
A bar of soap
on the shower floor
by the glass door;
slippery and slick,
I grabbed it quick.
1805.
unsophisticated poetry
clear banalities
ho-hum metaphors
lacking subtlety—
sand in the wind
1806.
Stone blocks rise.
Pyramids stand.
Pointed to the sky.
Surrounded by sand.
A Pharaoh's final prize.
Quintain Poetry Sections on this Webpage
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Poems 1,500 - 1,600
Poems 1,600 - 1,700
Poems 1,700 - 1,800
Poems 1,800 - 1,900
Poems 1,900 - 2,000
Bundled Up:
Quintains, Tankas, Pentastichs, and Onions
Quintain Poetry By Mike Garofalo
Bundled Up, Volume 1
Quintain Poems 1 - 1,000
Bundled Up, Volume 2
Quintain Poems 1,000 - 1,500
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Quintain Poems 1,500 - 2,000
Bundled Up, Volume 4
Quintain Poems 2,000 - 2,500
Bundled Up, Volume 5
Quintain Poems 2,500 - 3,000
1807.
Grandeur is Power
hiding in moon flowers
soaked in Spring showers;
the beautiful little things bring
our pleased hearts to sing.
1808.
"Meter is prospective;
Rhyme is retrospective.
Meter is narrow
Rhythm is broad."
Both married in good poetry.
- Brad Leithauser, Rhymes Rooms
1809.
No more elevator operators
elevators digitalized;
push a button for a ride,
smile at folks inside,
doors slide to the side.
1810.
no message in this verse
moving slowly like a hearse
dead ideas in a purse
just faint hints of melodies
sung by Furies to men at sea.
Erinyes Furies
Anger, Jealousy, Avenger
1811.
"Pouring itself on fulfillment the eagle's passion
Left life behind and flew at the sun its father.
The great unreal talons took peace for prey
Exultantly, their death beyond death; stopped upward,
and struck
Peace like a white fawn in a dell of fire."
- Robinson Jeffers
Big Sur, CA
1812.
Sharp eyes criticize.
Keen ears hear the call.
The taste of wisdom is often sweet.
Holding hands defies defeat.
—To Summarize: Be wise.
1813.
repeating, repeating ...
turning to the toilet seat
pulled my pants down right
peed accidentally on the seat
wiped up what I could see
1814.
Many themes of poetry
concern mundane trivialities...
like love, family, gods, birds and bees;
dogs, gardens, sex, loss, mulberry trees;
but, how they say it - that's the squeeze.
1815.
what he intended to say
what he intended to mean
what he wanted to convey---
unraveled rather intentionally
because of what he chose to say.
1816.
Telling the original
from a clever forgery
was the Treasury's agent's
forensic eyes—
counter fitters were compromised.
1817.
Failures can encourage.
Failures can lead to myths.
Failures can lead to rigidity.
Failures can lead to success.
Failures! Are they little or big?
1818.
Truth is temporal.
Fluctuates between the centuries
through passing fads and fancies;
with changing science and technology,
new discoveries, new truths, new things.
1819.
Before You Argue
"The bee does not waste
its energy trying to convince
a fly
that honey is better than shit."
Some minds are not meant to be changed.
"Their eating their cats,
Their eating their dogs."
Dedicated Trump True Believers are flies.
1820.
I made up myself,
I'm a self-made man... {Nonsense!}
American narcissist's
crave admiration, lack empathy,
reek of lies, steal from our land.
1821.
"Death has his tooth in the lot,
Avernus lusts for the lot of them,
Beauty is not eternal, no man has perennial fortune,
Slow foot, or swift foot,
death delays but for a season."
- Ezra Pound
1822.
snowing at
Seaside
blue blinking lights
somber night—
slippery sidewalks crackle
1823.
Ferry rocking:
huge waves
high winds
seawater crashing in—
now safely in Port Townsend.
1824.
Dawn at Devil's Lake,
red cedars dripping,
kinnikinnick shines,
firs frame the twisting shore—
fishermen coming to cast their lines.
1825.
Sculptures cold, stiff, refined.
Paintings framed, fixed, confined.
Music must be recreated, imitated, replayed
Time after time;
Dancers and actors recreate for our minds.
1826.
The Subjects?
dying or death
no poet can ignore, for
everyone must face
the Reaper's knock on their door.
1827.
Opened
the book of nightmares
to the chapter on Night Demons;
haunting the speech of my sleep,
screaming threats quite obscene.
1828.
dirty brown ceramic pot
holds a clump
of Mother-In-Law Tongues,
willy-nilly sticking out
pokey knife leaves of white-green.
1829.
balancing on priorities,
falling off useless schemes,
slipping off selfishness—
Opening up to tenderness;
Abandoning my old Macho jeans.
1830.
Beings last
for a short time—
as mosquitoes or elephant,
as tortoise or hare.
Keep your limited time in mind.
1831.
"To a chirr of gongs
And a chitter of cries
And the heavy thrum
Of the endless thread
That they tread;
To a jangle of doom
And a jumble of words
Of the intense poem
Of the strictest prose
Of Rosenbloom."
1832.
I was a man
for the longest time
and my little poems
reflected my macho mind.
Beware of my unconsciousness.
1833.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in this drawer.
It's not on that shelf.
It's not on this shelf.
Here It Is!
1834.
Shifting the feet of my positions,
fiddling with my objectivity,
reveling in my subjectivity,
changing my snake-skin Selves,
leaving traces on the trail.
1835.
We like to personify:
we prefer talking dragons or
frogs telling tales or
porpoises mumbling messages or
Donald Duck talking in comic books.
1836.
Came out of my trance
looked at my hands
rubbed my dry eyes
turned on a light;
Wondered why I'm alive.
1837.
Three sides
My inside and our outside,
flesh and experience,
my Outside in my Body.
The Third, Consciousness. Mysterious.
1838.
Deep Images
uncovered
from the archeology of his mind
archetypes of crucial Personalities
he had years ago left behind.
1839.
I locked up the new
Compton Library,
said goodnight to everyone,
closed the underground parking lot,
motorcycled home in the dark.
Compton Library, 1976
1840.
Huddled inside the
Westport docks so softly still;
protected from the violence
of the deep Grey sea, by
miles of rock jetties.
Westport, Washington
1841.
"Between walls
the back wings
of the
hospital where
nothing
will grow lie
cinders
in which shine
the broken
pieces of a green
bottle."
1842.
My hand over my eyes
Softens the bright sky
Stops the sharp glare
Off the brown-red sandstone of
The Cottonwood Canyon Cliffs
1843.
People bow their heads
when they pray.
Is it because of
Humility,
or are they Ashamed?
1844.
long sharp icicles
hand frozen daggers
sprouting from the eaves,
January in Sullivan,
snow on everything.
Sullivan, Indiana, 1971
1845.
The Lost Generation
was found yesterday noon,
decades too late;
strayed off the Bourgeois Interstate
got lost, a fictional fate.
1846.
Hell Yes!
Words Matter!
Try: insults, lies, criticism.
Try: praise, encouragement, support.
Results? Words Matter!
1847.
Sear's Christmas catalog
pages well turned
over and over again—
microscope and science kits, and
training in consumerism.
1848.
Unsolid breeze, sunlight, dreams,
riprap of nothings.
Invisible seams between
Ideas and insights cobbled keen
but unsubstantial they seem.
1849.
Contrary to what
seems to be obvious
and scientifically proved—
flat-earthers talk in circles,
ghost hunters make TV films.
1850.
caustic insinuations
slicing rebukes
meddlesome innuendos
fake news—
Abused!
1851.
"I saw myself
a ring of bone
in the clear stream
of all of it
and vowed
always to be open to it
that all of it
might flow through and then heard
"ring of bone" where
ring is what a bell does."
1852.
Bark
hard, flaky, long
pruning shrubs at noon
the skin of trees
Wood
Bark
loud, crisp, sound
fearful animals shout
sounds of concern
Dog
1853.
Ah, to dwell in transcendence
beyond the crisis of the first kiss
inside of momentary bliss;
our Love was slow to thrive
yet surpassed our ordinary lives.
1854.
My occasion of Dasein
1946-2026, being-times.
A steady flame and pace,
slogging in a fleck of space,
still opening some fascinating Gates.
- Dasein
1855.
Garofalo's make superior spaghetti
of durum wheat semolina
bronze-drawn texture tough—
Still no noted poets
from the Garofalo family line.
1856.
Kiddie Rocks and Teppy Nugents shot
a Sasquatch in the back.
Interviewed a Zombie in a NRA Dead Zoo.
Killed a Rhino just for gun-fun.
Invaded Chile for mines of lithium.
1857.
I milked the moments
of all my undercover poetry,
appearing quite naturally
upsurging innocently,
despite the frown of my uncertainty.
1858.
nonsense inflames jumbled rhymes
cold flames sear softening dimes
confusions twisted muddled soup
drawing non-messages from stripped-naked signs
seldom making sense—for me a grind!
1859.
"What is the Word of God?"
The scholar asked Jesus,
who thought for a second
and said,
"Él hablaba un idioma que no entendía."
1860.
What he remembered did not happen.
How she did it, she could not recall.
Why they did it, few know why.
Not understanding, I don't know why.
Dementia erases memory's eyes.
1861.
"never never udumbrate never fever scumbling punchable larynx snot
god sported inside mountain yawn swerve gliding dust to dust hard
shadow phase hammy maverick mut there scratching crev ice hording
hot snow ocean bosses sucds scribble which ways blacking
chancy chaos goughe loony brighter that time."
- Carla Harryman, Orgasms
1862.
ling cod
hot oil
lemon drips
fried crisp—
we applaud
1863.
For my Cantwell High School graduation
My supportive parents gave me
A shiny new Seiko wrist watch,
A portable Olymic manual typewriter—
Their high expectations pressured me.
- Cantwell Catholic High School,
Montebello, California 1963
1864.
He used 25 quatrains
to not tell a tale;
garbled up goose eggs of gritty
non-sequiturs, vers libre unhinged,
a grin, a spin, merry-go-round sins.
1865.
Our overtopped levees,
Flooding, an unstopable flow;
everyone runs
houses spun
towns and lives overrun.
1866.
Fictional towns:
Somewhere in County Down
Somewhere in the New Zealand's Hills
Somewhere in Astoria's Town—
Shambhala hidden in Tibet's Crown.
1867.
"We see to the bottom of the lake. The stems deep among the white rocks. Green and red leaves flat on the black water. Green to yellow. Yellow lotus buds. Leaves furled. Magenta inside. Spread out on the lake. Blue now of the sky. Black and green of trees. Beauty of husband nearby. Lotus and trees in the backgound. Husband. Half lake half sky."
- Laura Moriarty, Spectrum's Rhetoric
1868.
edible insects—
sauted black spiders, grub stew,
fried locusts, sugared flies,
meal worm soup, cricket cookies...
yum yum creepy-crawly foods.
1869.
Please help her get new shoes.
Please give up your selfish views.
Please help the sick get care.
—Please read more science books.
Please stop burning Steinbeck's books.
1870.
Malta's tiles
beautiful geometric styles
complex abstract flowered patterns
pigments galore—
for thousands of years or more
1871.
"Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present."
- T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets 1: Burnt Norton
1872.
book read shelf
pole fish line
ball soccer team
yard plant seeds
trail hike knees
1873.
"Direct Object transitive verb imperative mood and second person singular
prsonal pronoun implied Ordinal Roman Numeral period conditional
conjuction definite article Noun present tense singular appositional intransitive verb and past participle used as past of a passive form verbal compount preposition indefintie article singular Noun used as an object."
- Craig Dworkin, Noun Cardinal Arabic Numerical Period
1874.
"Cable car rides over swan flecked ponds
Red lacquer chests in our slateblue house
Chrysanthemums trailing bloom after bloom
Ivory, russet, pale yellow petals crushed
Between fingers, that green smell, if jade would smell
So-Sah's thatched roofs shading miso hung to dry—
Sweet potatoes grow on the rock choked side of the mountain
The other, the pine wet green side of the mountain
Hides a lush clearing where we picnic and sing:
Sung-Bul-sah, geep eun bahm ae
- Mug Mi Kim, Into Such Assembly
1875.
Canals connect
contintents to contintents
deep, cleaner, wider—
cargo ships grow larger
the Suez Canal grows.
Suez Canal Expansion Project, 2015
1876.
"... and what are poets for
in our destitute times?"
was asked by critics and poets
time after time after time—
Sincere artful words can spur change.
"To be a poet in a destitute time means:
to attend, singing, to the trace of the
fugitive gods."
- Martin Heidegger
1877.
"Light changes the sentence. A subject persists in memory sounding. Walks
along the edge of the contintent. Tea leaves piled like seaweed in a cup in a
mind pink of the inside and like the sea dark. Cut orchids and peonies as
writing or going out. Green of stems. Green of the sea. A long drive.
A longer walk. Movement is aloud."
- Laura Moriarty, Spectrum's Rhetoric
1878.
The belifef in gods goes on and on.
Some god may have deserted, is dying, or is dead;
but no matter, unimportant, irrelevant;
Because children can be duped and trained,
so the belief in gods will go on and on.
1879.
The ground was pulled
from right under his feet
so he fell in to the abyss,
of abject, absent, absolute nothingness.
Abgrund, no ground, groundlessness.
1880.
Traces of the holy
guides dedicated trackers
of the truly Holy—
set apart, sacred, surprising,
profound, dramatic, panoramic.
1881.
"Alone, alone, about a dreadful wood
Of conscious evil runs a lost mankind,
Dreading to find its Father lest it find
The Goodness it has dreaded is not good:
Alone, alone, about a dreadful wood."
- W. H. Auden
1882.
The 'really real' haunts us.
Ghosts cry for reconsideration.
Is our life like a dream?
Is everything an illusion?
Is Plato the wise sage to read?
1883.
Most of our beliefs
about onions, pencils, frogs, and retreats,
about books, trees, tortillas, and blue . . .
have to be true,
so we can agree on what to do.
1884.
"at sunrise
a bird sings outside
the hospital—
I look beneath the sheet
to where my leg used to be."
- Lynn D. Bueling
1885.
"One thing stands firm: whether it be near noon
Or close to midnight, a measure ever endures,
Common to all; yet to each his own is allotted, too,
Each of us goes toward
and reaches the place that he can."
1886.
Of course M'erican MAGA people hate philosophy.
The prefer Christian dogma straight,
and stale capitalist euphemisms,
and white people's superiority;
so they ain't Woke, they sleep late.
1887.
"My father screamed whenever the phone rang.
My aunt often screamed when she opened the dooor.
Our neighbor's daughter had a scream more melodious than my own.
At first, Col. Parker had to pay girls to get them to scream for Elivs.
Out back, the willows caterwauled."
- Elaine Egui, A Quiet Poem
1888.
Hopeless to hope
for non-linguistic access to the real,
via visions, epiphanies, revelations,
silence, gongs, zazen, sunshine . . .
yet, as to what is real, many disagree.
[The real versus the Real]
1889.
Dirty quintains Yell!
Grease on the floor.
Buggers on his nose.
Shit in her pants.
Stains on his good clothes.
1890.
By mid-morning the sun
illuminated the laurel leaves
bright brillant vibrant growing Green.
The intensity of the living leaves
spoke clearly of Here and Being.
1891.
"By swoops of bird, by leaps of fish I live.
My shadow steadies in a shifting stream;
I live in air; the long light is my home;
I dare caress the stones, the field my friend;
A light wind rises: I become the wind."
- Theodore Roethke
1892.
I packed up my Ford Escape SUV,
a four-cylinder four-wheeler for adventuring
to coastal towns nearby me;
like Nehalem Bay or Lincoln City,
or at the Cape Lookout cliffs by the sea.
1893.
1894.
I got 'thrown' into
our world of 1946!
East Los Angeles space
Bandini Barrio home
and my mother's kiss.
1895.
1896.
"I'm on a train, watching landscape streaming by, thinking
of the single equation that lets time turn physical
equivocal, almost equable on a train
where a window is speed, vertile, vertige. It will be
on of those beautiful equations, almost visible, almost green."
- Cole Swensen, Five Landscapes
1897.
Philosophy, like poetry,
an interesting kind of writing,
fuddy-duddyism fluff at times,
or sincerely reaching for the Sublime;
relying on contingencies of uncommon words.
1898.
1899.
"It never aims to create an illusion of reality. Instead
the warped lens allows for a new set of relationships behind
swirling facts. The wall confronts
a flotsam of vortical energy
and tree limbs transparentize in the blast.
Enmeshed in a field of concentric force,
the spectator is drawn toward
a wormhole of brightness, not depth but
another dimension entire.
A light which is life source."
- Forrest Gander, Ivy Brick Wall
1900.
1901.
1902.
1903.
"loneliness
isn't as bad
as having to face
fearful eyes staring back
at me in the mirror."
- Kala Ramesh
1904.
Quintain Poetry Sections on this Webpage
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Poems 1,500 - 1,600
Poems 1,600 - 1,700
Poems 1,700 - 1,800
Poems 1,800 - 1,900
Poems 1,900 - 2,000
Bundled Up:
Quintains, Tankas, Pentastichs, and Onions
Quintain Poetry By Mike Garofalo
Bundled Up, Volume 1
Quintain Poems 1 - 1,000
Bundled Up, Volume 2
Quintain Poems 1,000 - 1,500
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Quintain Poems 1,500 - 2,000
Bundled Up, Volume 4
Quintain Poems 2,000 - 2,500
Bundled Up, Volume 5
Quintain Poems 2,500 - 3,000
1905.
"The lake, every point on whose shore
Remains out of sight of some other point
Is draw from the kokotai,
A character drawn from the heart.
In it is a flaw called the Pure Land."
- Gallway Kinnell, Kyoto Prints
1906.
A dandelion never roars.
A needle has one eye, but cannot see.
A deck of cards has 12 hearts, but no other organs.
An experience is what people call their mistakes.
A cold you can catch, but cannot throw.
1907.
1908.
The post-modern poetry
I read in Paul Hoover's
1994 Norton Anthology
fascinated me ...
the complexity, free verses, uniqueness, and creativity.
Unfortunately,
the abstractness, varied wild typography,
odd symbology, jumbled imagery, rambling, ranting,
soci0-political-personal
currencies,
incomprehensibility, self-centeredness, flippancy, etc.;
left this reader ill at ease.
1909.
1910.
1911.
"Seeking
Perfect Total Enlightenment
is looking for a flashlight
when all you need the flashlight for
is to find your flashlight."
- Lew Welch
1912.
Quintain Poems from Ms. Ai
The Co-Pilot Artificial Intelligence Poet
"Snow settles on the porch like an old habit.
The trees stand patient, rehearsing stillness.
A crow marks the silence with one sharp note.
Cold air reminds me to breathe on purpose.
Winter keeps teaching what I keep forgetting."
- Ms. Ai
"The pond remembers last summer’s laughter.
A single gull traces a slow apology.
My breath fogs the world into small maps.
Footsteps tally the day in careful ticks.
Cold keeps its promises without speaking."
- Ms. Ai
"A streetlight pools its pale patience on the curb.
Snow settles like a quiet ledger.
Neighbors move through windows like soft pages.
I count the lamps until my hands go numb.
Night folds itself into a simpler shape."
Ms. Ai
"Steam fogs the window where the world is distant.
A kettle sings the same old hymn.
Outside, branches hold their brittle confessions.
I stir sugar into the slow, warm dark.
Comfort arrives in small, ordinary increments."
- Ms. Ai
"A silver seam unthreads the horizon.
Sound folds into a single slow geometry.
Light counts its breath in invisible arcs.
The shore rehearses its forgetting and returns.
Motion keeps its secret without a face."
- Ms. Ai
"Blue remembers itself in a language of pull.
Edges dissolve into the grammar of motion.
A rhythm writes and then erases its own name.
Between rise and fall, a small eternity opens.
We listen for what the water will not say."
- Ms. Ai
"Curves draft a map that refuses to be read.
Each crest is a question posed to the sky.
Depths answer in a tone older than speech.
The surface arranges chaos into patient pattern.
Silence builds a house out of passing light."
- Ms. Ai
Quintain Poems from Ms. Ai
The Co-Pilot Artificial Intelligence Poet
Artificial Intelligence Poetry Notes
1913.
1914.
Appearance and/or Reality . . .
tumbled in the dryer of my mind,
readied for the clothes of talk
to cover my daily grind.
It appears that sober secular reality is mine.
1915.
1916.
"I like the feeling of incompleteness.
the icy unresolve
(some would say lack of closure)
in your poems
A good stubborn modernist
refusal to cohere"
- Elaine Eui, The Collected
1917.
I don't have any direct
access to Reality
{ with a Capital R }.
But, I do like to deal
with petty realities unsnarled.
1918.
1919.
"no one can tell me
at what moment it began
this sad story . . .
the endless winter
of my motherland."
- Mariko Kitakubo
1920.
1921.
"Gentle Goddess,
Who never asks for anything at all,
and gives is everything we have,
thank you for this sweet water,
and your fragrance."
- Lew Welch, Prayer to a Mountain Stream
1922.
1923.
1924.
1925.
1926.
"I was talking about
reading, reading, rewriting
what is seen. Put the book down and look into the day.
I want an art that can say how I am feeling
If I am feeling blue sky
unrolling in a coronation rug
unto the bare toe of a peasant girl
with vague memories
of Jeanne d'Arc,
or that transformation of Cinderella."
- Geter Gizzi, Revival
1927.
"But at my back
I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity."
1928.
1929.
1930.
1931.
"Coming nearer and nearer the resonating chamber
the poem begins to throw itself around,
fiercely,
silent stretches of snow,
grass waving for hundred of miles.
Intent pierces into hard wood, which grows dense
from inside, something mad penetrates
the wood,
something alive, something
human, like a violin that reverberates with thought.
The fierce intent that nature does not know of
drives inside the poem,
changes it,
thickens it with sober weight;
it is something dense, a human madness."
- Robert Bly, The Poem
1932.
1933.
1934.
1935.
1936.
"Occasion for hatred
For the men
At the Pistol Range
For the flags smothering their trucks . . .
Occasion for dreaming
Of gathering the flags
and sewing them
Each to each into a shroud
For a country going down,
In the aftermath of its occasion."
- Claudia Keelan, Sun Going Down, 2004
1937.
Quintain Poems from Ms. Ai
The Co-Pilot Artificial Intelligence Poet
"Morning frost on the garden stones.
My breath rises like a small prayer.
Nothing asks to be hurried.
Even the weeds wait their turn.
I learn patience from what grows slowly."
- Ms. Ai, Co-Pilot
"I peel another onion from the basket.
Layers fall like old assumptions.
The core is never what I expect.
Tears come for many reasons.
Some are simply part of the work."
- Ms. Ai, Co-Pilot
"Walking the same trail again,
I notice a new bend in the river.
Or maybe it is I who has changed.
The water keeps teaching.
I keep trying to listen."
- Ms. Ai, Co-Pilot
"Books unopened on the table,
their wisdom sealed like seeds.
I promise myself more time.
Promises drift like dust.
Still, I plant a few pages each day."
- Ms. Ai, Co-Pilot
"A fallen leaf turns slowly in the wind.
Its path is neither chosen nor denied.
I watch it settle where it must.
So much of life drifts the same way.
Wisdom is learning when not to resist."
- Ms. Ai, Co-Pilot
"Books whisper from their shelves.
Each page a seed of thought.
I plant them in the soil of mind.
Some bloom, some fade unseen.
Philosophy is the garden of questions."
- Ms. Ai,
Co-Pilot
"The body bends like willow branches.
Strength becomes a softer thing.
I walk slower, but see more.
The horizon is closer than before.
Age is the art of gentle surrender."
- Ms. Ai, Co-Pilot
"A mirror shows me changing faces.
None remain for very long.
I am both stranger and familiar.
The river carries me forward.
Self is the current, never the stone."
- Ms. Ai, Co-Pilot
"The clock ticks without apology.
Each second slips beyond my reach.
I grasp at hours like falling sand.
The day teaches me to let go.
Time is the teacher that never rests."
- Ms. Ai, Co-Pilot
"The forest keeps its counsel in deep shade.
Old trunks lean like elders in discussion.
Wind carries news no one translates.
I walk between questions and roots.
Silence becomes the answer I didn’t expect."
- Ms. Ai, Co-Pilot
"Under the cathedral of green I walk.
Light sifts like slow confession through the leaves.
Roots keep the stories the wind forgets.
I learn patience from trunks that do not hurry.
The forest holds its counsel; I carry a quieter self."
- Ms. Ai, Co-Pilot
Quintain Poems from Ms. Ai
The Co-Pilot Artificial Intelligence Poet
Artificial Intelligence Poetry Notes
1938.
the five big firs
in my back yard
drop needles down—
— . —squirrels scamper— . —
@ round & round, Up and Down @
1939.
If
women were men
they'd work far less
and stand to piss
and not look their best
1940.
| ##### | Counted | ##### |
| ..... | Asserted | ..... |
| ????? | Questioned | ????? |
| !!!!! | Exclaimed | !!!!! |
| ,,,,, | Paused | ,,,,, |
1941.
"Hands, do what you are bid:
Bring the balloon of the mind
That bellies and drags
in the wind,
Into its narrow shed."
1942.
1943.
Fire apple
Ruby snake
Bloody jackal
Steel lace
Mercury laced cake
1944.
1945.
1946.
"Poetry is not
the thing said
but
a way of
saying it."
1947.
dead bodies
rotting
in the rubble—
earthquake sirens
silent
1948.
"The wound cannot close; language is a formal exit
is what exists from the wound it documents.
The would is deaf to what it makes; it deaf
to exist and to all, and that is its durable self,
to be a mayhem that torments a city."
- Mark McMorris, Letters to Michael
1949.
Da-dum, Da-dum, Da-dum, Da-Dum, Da-Dum!
So the Iambic Pentameter runs,
marching to the ancient drummer's drum,
a poet's verses timed to a clock,
Tick-tock, Tick-tock, Tick-tock, Tick-tock Walk.
1950.
1951.
"Death throws a shadow on us, as if it were a tree
It is a swinging lamp, swaying from the motion of the planet.
It rushed up through tunnels where only chill air rushes.
The mammoths felt the wind in their hollow legs.
The leaves above us rustle."
- Robert Bly, Some Images for Death
1952.
1953.
"You are the hero.
Of your own story.
The Priviledge
of a lifetime
Is being who you are."
- Joseph Campbell
1954.
1955.
If cars were trains
they'd carry more freight
often be late
and could not deviate.
1956.
"I wanna ooze yer toothsome goth sex forever
'Cause my onscreen oral scene with Zora just went nowhere.
And human sex trafficking just takes the piss out of daywear.
And a haute-crunchy supermarket chain will just keep identifyin'
with the professor."
- Sharon Mesmer,
I Don't Wanna Lose Yer Wholesome Love Fest Forever
1957.
awakened at 2 am
wide-awake
clear mind
silent home
free time
1958.
I turned in my essay
on epistemological psychology
[a Rortyesque critique of Moore's 'sense datum']
written quite hastily—
my professor said "trivial". Got a C.
California State University at Los Angeles, 1976
Master's Degree program in Philosophy
Dr. Glathe, Dr. Benson, Dr. Burrill,
Dr. Howey ... all gone.
1959.
Faucet
Water, turn, tap, hose, hot, cold, plumbing.
She turned off the faucet.
A plumbing fixture in kitchens and elsewhere
used to control the flow of fresh water.
Water
1960.
Not sleeping tonight, but that is alright;
Calm, focused, bright, wanting to write.
Money comes, sun runs to the deep sea,
No cobwebs hanging near my bumblebees.
An afternoon nap, dreaming about a trapeze.
1961.
"The sea boils in over underwater rocks
then swiftly pulls back,
among currents with different thoughts,
everything sweeping and howling ...
Now the sea is suddenly motionless,
making the holes on the rock floor clear."
- Robert Bly, A Rock Islet on the Pacific
The Point Reyes Poems
At the Edges of the West: Highway 101 and 1
1962.
1963.
Lemon Amnesia
mellow sativa
Flower Power—
From the Soil Farm:
Ganja for Pot Heads.
1964.
1965.
"Though swiftly
the world converts,
like cloud-shapes' upheaval,
everything perfectly reversts
to the primeval."
1966.
1967.
1968.
Caught the noon military flight
from LAX to Dallas,
packed plane in 1969,
packed Drafted men inside—
we were anxious about Vietnam.
Caught the night flight
from Baltimore to LAX,
packed plane in 1993.
Rough, bouncy, scary ride—
I was paralyzed.
Caught the morning flight
from Santa Fe to Sacramento,
packed plane in 2019.
Smooth easy ride—
I never flew again.
1969.
1970.
1971.
"The jet bores like a silverfish through volumes of cloud—
clouds that will keep no record of where we have passed,
not the sea's mirror, nor the coral busy with its own
culture; they aren't doors of dissolving stone,
but pages in a damp culture that come apart."
- Derek Walcott, Midsummer
1972.
American will never be
'Merica again.
We need new directions,
with circumspection
about global economies.
1973.
1974.
1975.
A book has words, but never speaks.
An echo can't talk, but can reply.
A shadow is on the ground, but never gets dirty.
A feather is easy to lift, but hard to throw.
A road goes through a city, but never moves.
1976.
1977.
"Heidegger construed
objects and assertions about objects
as surely to be used as
"ready-to-hand" and
"present-at-hand: tools."
- Michael Bérubé, Philosophy as Poetry
1978.
Facing the sun
shadows fall behind.
With my back to the sun
shadows flow forward.
Walk on! Forget about shadows.
1979.
1980.
1981.
"The body is like a November birch facing the full moon
And reaching into the cold heavens.
In these trees there is no ambition,
no sodden body, no leaves,
Nothing by bare trunks climbing like cold fire."
- Robert Bly, Solitude Late at Night in the Woods
1982.
1983.
1984.
1985.
Some skinny Cro-Magnon woman
ate roasted duck and
grunted a sound like 'duck';
others agreed, imitated, chewed,
and said for years, 'duck' too.
1986.
He could not tell me
about his extra-linguistic thoughts
that somehow proceeded
what he said
he thought.
1987.
1988.
1989.
1990.
1991.
"In the mute roar of autumn, in the shrill
treble of the aspens, the basso of the holm-oaks,
in the silvery wandering aria of the Schuylkill,
the poplars choiring with a quillon strokes,
fine love for what is not your land."
- Derek Walcott, Pastoral
1992.
1993.
"A girl lies with me
on the grass of the levee. Two
birds whirr overhead. We lie close, surprised
to have waked a bit early
in bodies of glory.
In it skin of light, the river
bends into view, rising
between the levees, flooding for the sky,
a hundred feet down pressing its long weight
silently into the world."
- Galway Kinnell, The Last River
1994.
1995.
1996.
"I am putting makeup on an empty space
all patinas convening on empty space
rouge blushing on empty space
I am putting makeup on empty space
pasting eyelashes on empty space
painting the eyebrows of empty space
piling creams on empty space
painting the phenomenal world
I am hanging ornaments on empty space
gold clips, lacquer combs, plastic hairpins on empty space.
- Anne Waldman, Makeup on Empty Space
1997.
1998.
1999.
2000.
Opened the Door of his Mind:
Mostly a hoarder's rooms inside.
Filled with magazines of stale memories.
Packed with boxes of unpleasant dreams.
Piled with the dirty dishes of despair.
Quintain Poetry Sections on this Webpage
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Poems 1,500 - 1,600
Poems 1,600 - 1,700
Poems 1,700 - 1,800
Poems 1,800 - 1,900
Poems 1,900 - 2,000
Bundled Up:
Quintains, Tankas, Pentastichs, and Onions
Quintain Poetry By Mike Garofalo
Bundled Up, Volume 1
Quintain Poems 1 - 1,000
Bundled Up, Volume 2
Quintain Poems 1,000 - 1,500
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Quintain Poems 1,500 - 2,000
Bundled Up, Volume 4
Quintain Poems 2,000 - 2,500
Bundled Up, Volume 5
Quintain Poems 2,500 - 3,000
25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works
At the Edges of the West
Highway 101 and Hwy 1
Bundled Up: Quintains, Pentastichs, Tankas
Cuttings: Haiku, Senryu, Brief Poems
At the Edges of the Fertile West
Highway 99 and Interstate 5
Texts Press Publications
Free Online Poetry and Studies
Vancouver, Washington
Texts Press Email
Quintains and Tanka Poetry
Research, Studies, Notes
Bibliography, Links, References,
Webpages, Essays, Magazines
Definitions, Examples
Research by Mike Garofalo
Mike Garofalo's Internet
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Since 2024, my webpages are in
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I use my Cloud Hands Blog for
poetry posts, posts on a variety
of topics, promoting others,
and selling books.
I research and study poetry at my home.
In 2026, I am carefully studying
the poetry of
John Ashbery,
Emily Dickinson, and the West Coast,
USA, Literary Scene, and Quintains.
My academic background includes:
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librarianship, education, and business.
Feedback or suggestions are welcome.
Editors and publishers who think my
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25 Steps and Beyond:
The Collected Works of Mike Garofalo
Texts PreSS Couve Publications
Free Online Poetry and Studies
By Mike Garofalo
Vancouver, Washington
Text PreSS Couve Email
Michael Peter Garofalo (1946-) grew up in East Los Angeles, raised well by my parents June and Big Mike, was educated in Catholic Schools, lived with two other brothers, graduated (B.A., M.S.) from local universities.
Married Blanche Karen Eubanks, served in the US Air Force, worked in and managed many City and Los Angeles County Public Libraries, raised two children, socialized, traveled, and learned. Retired as the Regional Administrator, East Region, Los Angeles County Public Library in 1998.
We moved to a rural 5 acre property in Red Bluff, in the North Sacramento Valley, CA. Webmaster since 1998. Worked part-time for the Corning School District (Technology and Media Services Manager, District Librarian, Grant Writer, Webmaster); and as a yoga, Taijiquan, and fitness club instructor until 2016. Traveled extensively in Northern California, Oregon, and Washington.
We both retired, and we moved to Vancouver, WA, in 2017. Currently in 2025: reading, writing, gardening, harmonica playing, home chores, yurt camping, exercise, traveling in the Northwest, web publishing, family events, poetry research, photography, Northwest research, Nature mysticism, Buddhist and Taoist literature, walking, sports events, etc.
25 Steps and Beyond; Collected Works
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Bundled Up:
Quintains, Pentastichs,
Tankas, and Onions
Poetry By Michael P. Garofalo
Pulling Onions
1,000 Quips, Opinions, and One-Liners
A Basket of Ideas from the Backyard
Cuttings :::
Tercets, Haiku, Senryu, and Onions
Arranged by Months
Bundled Up
Bundled Up, Volume 1
Quintain Poems 1 - 1,000
Bundled Up, Volume 2
Quintain Poems 1,000 - 1,500
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Quintain Poems 1,500 - 2,oo0
Bundled Up, Volume 4
Quintain Poems 2,000 - 2,500
Bundled Up, Volume 5
Quintain Poems 2,500 - 3,000
At the Edges of the West
A Docu-Poem
The earliest poems on this webpage
were posted online in 2021.
This document was last edited, revised,
reformatted, added to, relinked,
changed, improved, or modified
by Mike Garofalo
on January 15, 2026.