Short Verses & Other Curses – Promotional Giveaway Until 12/26/15

Short Verses & Other Curses

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I began focusing much of my poetry writing on the Japanese poetic forms of haiku, senryū, and tanka at the beginning of 2012 as a therapeutic effort when finding myself in the midst of an illness. And I continue to write them even as I find myself, at the end of 2015, in the midst of wellness – their therapy for me being more calmative now than curative.

The Short Versesin this collection are all either haiku, senryū, or tanka, with those in the latter half of the section being accompanied by a titled photograph or drawing…

The Other Curses in this collection are poems and sayings following no particular form or convention – in other words, they are quite informal and unconventional. Some in this section are accompanied with a photograph or drawing; many are not.

I discover truth and meaning in the concepts of no mind, living in the now, non-attachment, and the angst of existence as found in the practices and philosophies and Zazen, Stoicism, and Existentialism. Additionally, I admire greatly the concepts taught by the late Dr. Wayne Dyer.

You may notice these conceptual influences laced throughout this collection…

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Not Quite At Its Peak

The lovely and loving wife and I made a quick visit to one of my most favorite spots on this ol’ very pretty but very petulant planet of ours to capture a few images of the Cherry Blossoms pre-peak. Peak blossom will be next week so you can be assured we will make a much less quicker visit then to capture the full bloom.

If you, too, would love to see Washington DC’s fabulous Cherry Blossoms, gifts of friendship to the people of the United States from the people of Japan many years ago, but are unable to make the trip, you can see them live via the awesome site There you can point the lens to different areas, zoom in and out, and even capture a few photos of the beauty and wonderment for yourself.

Can’t wait until next week to see the trees in their peak, and to enjoy the annual National Cherry Blossom Festival in their honor.


I Welcome You to the New

It is with heavy but happy heart that I say goodbye to my old me – the novels, the poetry, the short stories, the haiku – and say hello to the new me!

A me that only wishes to blog about that which he loves most, not counting his lovely and loving wife and children, of course…

And that which I love most, not counting you know who, is My Dogs & Ramen!!!

Let’s face it, my writing efforts just aren’t cutting it. Have you bought one of my books?!

No, of course you haven’t.

So why deal with that stress and frustration when I can do something here that I truly enjoy…

And that is to embrace the inner Pet Lovin’ Foodie in me and begin posting pictures of my dogs and all the ramen joints that the wife and I love to seek out and enjoy!!!

So, without further ado, let’s get this party of a new blogging format started, shall we…

Since you all know my dogs Aurelius & Zeno, two loving but highly destructive Plott Hound brothers, I shall commence my new photo-blogging journey with a picture of Baltimore’s newest Ramen Joint TenTen Ramen


As I wrote to my friends on my private Facebook page, which probably didn’t include you, TenTen is hands down the best ramen joint my lovely and loving wife and I have had the pleasure of eating at in the States.

Yes, even better than any in New York City.

Mmm, delish...
Mmm, delish…
Look at that! Hungry yet?
Look at that! Hungry yet?
Heaven in a bowl
Heaven in a bowl

In following issues I will discuss the history of ramen (you cannot imagine how exciting and full of intrigue it is) and we will have an in-depth conversation with the man behind TenTen Ramen.

Stay tuned!

And because this blog is also now dedicated to my dogs as well as ramen, I will share a few shots of my boys with you.




I should add here that, even though I will no longer post literary things here, after reading more about the Clean Reader app, I have decided that I am going to endorse their efforts after all, instead of opposing them. The founders are good Christian people with good intentions. So, since I am no longer opposed to censorship in literature, I feel it is best for me to be more prudent with my photography and edit over that which may be offensive.

Well, I hope you are as excited about my blog’s new direction as I am. Wish me well!!!

Have a Pet-Lovin’ Food-filled day!!!™

A Story For the Misaligned, Sailor Or Otherwise

[UPDATE: The title of this novel has been changed to INSIDE THE SKIN]

The Sea Trials of an Unfortunate Sailor
A story for us all

From the Dedication Page:

This book is dedicated to anyone — regardless of race, ethnicity, sex, gender and all its breathless facets, sexual orientation, non-sexual orientation, sexual non-orientation, spirituality or lack thereof, religion or lack thereof, nationality or lack thereof, political affiliation or lack thereof, occupation or lack thereof, education or lack thereof, good looks or lack thereof, height, weight, shoe size, or any other ways we have identified and implemented as means to compare and contrast and separate and segregate and relegate and rank ourselves as humans — who has ever once regretted his or her or their identity.

This book, then, is for us, all of us.

You can learn more here.


As the Flowers Burn Below

Time to dance
to songs symbolic of the age—
of the world


Beating pulsing writhing
we cast our blurred yet fixed gaze
on the burning flowers far below

High upon the roof of hell
as the flowers burn below
we dance and sway
with the blazed wind
down down
far below


In this world
we walk on the roof of hell
gazing at flowers

Kobayashi Issa

Newsletter Love (002-15) announces a contest of sort … a haiku contest. Must be a subscriber to enter and win. Read all the details here.



Poetic reflections on generational boundaries and the separation – the ridge – between the them as we knew them and the them as they were by the lovely and loving Megi of HappyNest in America

googlely translated

Light of the Ridge Line

The field of sunrise just frost

Reflected my illusion of five-year-old chase the back of the grandfather

Grasp the straw hat

Toward the back of the grandfather out to mushroom picking

Grandmother would had over the heck what voice

As spoiled brat that can not ask if you started to say

Without even reply

My grandfather was aimed at intently mountain

The undergrowth of beech forest

The back of the grandfather stomp to make a sound

I chase earnestly

From interval of oak branches and leaves that smell of damp moss to stagnation

Also enters the afternoon sun that was leaning

Grandfather was performed progressing toward the front

On without looking back

West of the sky and spread large visible slightly

Holding up my left hand

Soft Komorebi is wrapped’s

As light to illuminate the evening of the ridgeline


And playing with larvae of the beetle

And listened to the chirping of birds flying

I picked the wildflowers

Until the grandfather of backpack basket is full


I blow the sound of Sasafue is

And might not reach the grandfather of ear


Also grandfather of microcosm

HappyNest in America









































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And all this time I thought Jack Kerouac only had an affinity for the lovely and loving Megi of HappyNest in America, sleeping, and food.

Come to find out, he also has an affinity for the camera.

Or, to him, is it merely a pillow…

HappyNest in America

photo (6)


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Paul Xylinides, Author of THE WILD HORSES OF HIROSHIMA

Covered in Fish Oil and Honey while Sitting in a Public Toilet
by Paul Xylinides


Paul Xylinides
Paul Xylinides
At one time, I might have listened to my puritanical side and questioned this title for a post and perhaps especially a post that I had been invited to contribute as unnecessarily sensationalistic in the same manner that I once dismissed the real life event of performance art to which it refers. In fact when I began to write the novel whose working title The Sumo and his Bird finally became The Wild Horses of Hiroshima one of my intentions was to undertake a full-scale critical denunciation of events similar to what is described and commonly tagged by the rubric of “performance art”. I intended at the same time to include in the sweep of my scathing criticism much of the “installation art” that I had long dismissed as either insulting or derivative. These attitudes of mine reach far back to the original instigator of this type of art presentation – the one who contributed to the world’s cultural understanding with the galley exhibit of a men’s urinal. The following is the Tate Gallery’s description of the object and something of Marcel Duchamp’s idea of its artistic utility:
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