Description -- At the Dog Show

Massive of brachiocephalic nature,

with a heavy appearance in stature,

covered in soft loose skin, her

shape like an elongated bucket

meso-form whose body is longer

than height at her cross, accentuating

her long form,

the bitch being slightly longer

than the dog.

The cranium face proportion

is her 60 to 40 percenter

width of skull provides three-fifths

of her total head length.

dog of medium size, eumetric,

Rustic and well proportioned,

with a straight profile and black face.

Seriousness of such is calculated

measured by how far it varies

from standard requirements such as

Excessive wrinkles in facial and skull

which don’t detract from the dog’s expression.
*
*
But my dog

has Square outline,

A triangular, narrow angled square head,

and an appearance light weight,

A tail that is curly, very thin,

... of equal thickness throughout length

some deformed, and then again

some of her sizes are very small and also very large;

Dorsal line saddle shaped, small chest, weak front,

Ribs insufficient --

She has tight skin without elasticity,

Light coloured eyes,

Eyes too close together and obliquely

Deep set, not projecting.

Excessive jaw protruding,

A few missing teeth;

Ears rooted too high in her skull --

A skull which is round and arched;

slobber that seems to seep --

skull and facial lines divergent;

Flat fine hair, a poor mask marked,

A long thick neck, insufficient.

But a very kind bark !
_____________
Retrieval by Pat Darnell
Copyright © 2010 Patrick Darnell
[SOURCE]

It Happened this Way

J says | October 12, 2008 at 6:52 am
[ ... ]

Now the whole “associative” can of worms is a lot of fun. Imagine that I wrote a hymntune (a new “Amazing Grace”)…and PD wrote the lyrics. We copyright it and a few days later there are two Youtube slideshows using our hymntune as underscore. One features photos of children in prayer. The other features photos of vertically-challenged transvestite albino nuns wearing Doc Martens and stomping kittens and puppies. Imagine how detrimental this second association will be to our career! Somewhere there’s a lawyer out there for this case.

Have I been “served”?  http://jinright.edublogs.org/files/2008/10/01-moopig-hymn.m4a

The brothers from the Moopig Marching Monastic Mass Choir had a few issues with the irregular metrical footprint.

Pat Darnell and Friends says | October 13, 2008 at 8:15 am
I tried to avoid being called out for days now… Imagine that I wrote a hymntune (a new “Amazing Grace” )…and PD wrote the lyrics.

Well, J, this will teach ya’ to never do that again…

Transecting transvesting
I’m lost in mySpace
entitled zigzagging
albino Schoolmates
vibrato clapping
paunched boozing
many nuns Catholics
minimalist specialists
Transvestited conjugal
A transvest tripe licked me face

Coney Isle warm begot mellow
Sylvia strongest mask photo’d
Marclein martelled cantorello
Prologue of the nuns’ priest tale
‘de Chaucer an old, odd fellow,
Blind Doc Marten Martello’d

Monica, aria impressed, begot ciro:
‘Waar kan je te koop
‘E’en husky als
‘splatted triangle’s blackmails
‘als puppies kopen dear’o
‘van spotter in noord… escargot!

Canto Kinta prologue’d
Double forte rittard
Of the nuns’ priest tale –
Once entitlement zigzagging
Now, nuns shit wedging
toward this ending
on a Discordant chord…..
and much oath and pledging….

Pat Darnell and Friends says | October 13, 2008 at 10:23 pm
Oh my Gawd… ( :-o Holy Mackerel !! Sweet Mother of Jesus and His Step-Dad… vertically-challenged transvestite albino nuns wearing Doc Martens and stomping kittens and puppies… making irregular metrical footprints

It’s a good start, I think… no? Not served: U D Man… *[genuflecting large big dumb animals]* We Serve U

Reply | Pribek says | October 13, 2008 at 10:40 pm
now I’m not going to be able to get that tune out of my head


PHEW!
Copyright © 2010 Patrick Darnell

Singing Falsetto

by Pat Darnell | 2010

The best place to play

They call the ghetto

Where is there a park bench
... to lay down
... none in the shade

Where I can curl up
... and do time again

... can't afford, I don't ask
... lead a conscience green

... read your last letter last night
... whimpered alone

... all for lost time
... scripts down a scene

Unscripted it felt
What I think
ask her: No. It's done.

What am I going to tell everyone?

Little League Sign Up Day

by Pat Darnell | 1995

Sun struck driver
creeps by
urchins carry
boom boxes on shoulders
along sidewalk warm
playin' winter's discoveries
like teenager alarm.

Cabin weary moms
stretch out
in dusty, musty
jogging suits
a little saggy

faded and bagging
on hibernated legs
and torsos a little loose
like pajamas on the Mamas

Every one out
for a look see
at salted curbs
debris, will there be
one more frost?

on Easter...?

before soil disturbed
by daffodil, tulip
strawberry, and weeds

No sign of Dad yet
no hurry, except
for those in charge
of today's
Little League Sign Up

Around you see
those with tans
already they
been livin' largess
heavy hitters
who split
during winter mess

Yes; some Mom's 've been yachting
Some Dads leisured on Feb beaches
near America's Cup sweeps
lucky ones with nose up
richer gettin' richer
parents persnickety,
their kids are all pitchers!

Try-outs in the gym
winters melting
in fields wetting
So the clickety-clack
of baseball bats
must wait till
winter whey
all goes away
in seasonal decay
is born Little League Sign Up Day !

Pain Never Ending

by Pat Darnell

My Pain is endless
it never ceases
On waking, it cringes
At dusk, infringes
Keeps me sleepless

A neck strain today
toothaches yesterday
rheumatism, eye strain,
I'm not pretending,
Enemies? Your revenge
on me, I'm getting

Daughters your anger
answered this appendage
As pain never end-age
Upon a man intending
no elder life like this

Sometimes a lung
sometimes a thumb
feet like slabs of numb
chest's dull nag ...
... head hung

By witness of bone
these prizes I bear
alone
can I mitigate home

No mantel nor cloak
to conceal or abide
this stranger than life
episode I wish to hide

My humble prayer
to God above ...
release all my folk
from this despair

Calmly, quietly,
in warm attachment
... let me go,
for these pains impeding
pain never-ending
no one should ever know.

Inside Outside

Play on carpet
with domino
look through a box
bang my head
on the window

Happily clap
with wrists up
and up, elbow up
goes wild my pup

The storm descends
always washes away
I get out of the wind
as the stormy weather
interrupts my play

Quickly return
to my Spring-scented day
in the yard ...
... full to the curb
covered with juicy clover
puppy runs all over ...

Play outside ...
till the storm clouds cover
play outside ...
till the clouds come over

Stiff thunder scares me back inside
gray sky thunder makes me hide.

Life Changing Events

by Pat Darnell | Foggia '05

Check all signs
parlay the scriptures
call the Comforter
repeat the six prayers
from prayer chair

Deliver pet dog
at kennel by dinner
Toss her to the chain links
she muffles a query:

Do not eat this
Look, I did this
... this or, this?
You did none of it.
I did every thing
You did nothing.

Light flashes
on -- then on again --
YEPP' and MP3
Cellular, then off,
then wait, then
crackle...

Then BBC, then engines
very large engines
Then a push through
weather

A rock skipping over the clouds
a stone flies again

Do you know
where we are
?

Muncheritis

by Pat Darnell

Hanging upside down
on a pine branch
like a wren looking
for an aphid

I let the Minsky
frisk me because
I wouldn't blow
in his tube

Then it struck me
this is like images
within a mirror
with attitude

And I swear
that is not why
they jumped me
in verisimilitude

Of my actions
as it is plain
I was only out there
searching for food.

(Today, May 2010)

Earth Does

by Pat Darnell

What tethers
us in space?

No tackle
nor knots I've seen

like a kite
on a string

pulls to earth
us back in

a bucket
out of a well

depth breadth
comprehensible expanse
trek out a far distance

not to be lost
at our entrance

looking for face
recognizable out in space

what tethers us
in space?

Everyday at 17:00 hours

Prophets are Jawboned


How can I go on believing the greater you is in me?
Burst-ed bones of broken legs into a fire
potash and embers of Yaupon and Aspen
And jawbone of an ass
Jutting out, smoky mass --
Turning watery eyes watery
Crackling, disturbing to the finish
A wash of mountain yonder made
End of day, in fixed array
Devoid of end shade
Fixed time light dappled
Ordinary mottled
And variegated home
of praying mantis

Darnell 2006

Tough Love

by Pat Darnell | Nov 2007

Don't you ever
want to know
how I got here?

'Want to know
how I put
this road
behind me?

I thought you
would want to know me
if I became a tree
you might carve
your name
in my bark

And return one day
and see how
I protected you.

Let Loose a Tear

by Pat Darnell | Nov 2007

This crying
should probably
stop,

in a decade
or three

I keep trying
to write
the alternate ending

Sort of turns
out like a
letter within a story

True love reared its head
leered at me
then went to bed

Goal achieved
like background music
at cinema twenty-three

Focus on victory
break through stillness
celebrate in warmth

Accept my fate
story goes on
as endless coast

Of treasure, love, sea
tears and prophecy
some old songs

Lifts a few of my burdens
takes me back
'n lets loose a tear

Concert of Circle

Concert of song
see the fellowship
of women strong
... it is the songs
of children ...
of child birth ...
and so on

and of desire
and of great longing

Hush, maybe, do not disturb
their heartfelt songs
prayers in concert
... hear sisters sing
about their children
and their lives ...
with their hums,
between belling ...

Observe how they
grow chatty ...
around the bread
along with fishes that
seem to always follow
women ahead

Peering there --
just behind Jesus ...
... amid branches
sifting streamlettes,
and tinkling triplets ...

Singing their songs
to sustenance,
to strength,
from beginning to end
fellowship of women...
isn't it remarkable
their concert of circle.

Patrick Darnell (2001)

Descry

by Pat Darnell


Dangling at the end
Of the food chain

Was a soldier.

Who lost his wife
His gun, his son,
And nearly his life.

When then he found a clarinet
That upon it had his name,
A honed woodwind,
primed him in
breathing easier,
until one day,
He wrestled a tree
Finally fell
His body went
To pieces, which
All the creatures ate.
A happy feast that day,
At heaven’s gate.

His soul escaped
Not devoured
In final hour

A hand reached out
To catch him,
Put the young soul on a cloud,
At about half past two,

The soul of the soldier
Said, “Thank you.”
The one with the hand
Told the soldier’s soul
his new name --

“Metronome.”

And the cloud’s address
is 12, a matchless home.


The clarinet re-toned
with scales of delightful scores,
Notes uniform, and impossible
For human ears to hone.
On that same day
Upon earth fell
Twins, borne ‘neath
A channel, in gale,
whereupon two games
Will be played.

Each would owe life
To the soldier’s demise
While shepherds
Pastured their sheep, ‘neath birds
In their freedom flight,
To the river to drink

Their blood is from
The river flowing
To the iodine sea
They fly above
the living pleasure
as rocking waves knead
the banks, fertile with seed

As naught has ever
Been seen froward
Nor in reverse, evinced
In famish, nor, glory ward,

Obscurity, nor lucidity,
Neither scheme, schism, nor worry,

Beheld the brilliance in life
as a dread vantage of rough
High-spirited games
Dangled by threads above gulf
Just below cloud twelve
Stirred at soldier’s end, just
A gnash ahead in the food chain.


1991

Willy's Turkey Chilli Paste

Three years workin'
and he ain't tellin'
what it is ...
... you are smellin'

by Pat Darnell

Three years work ...
and pot likker still
tastes like chicken ...

Just Kiddin' !

Prawn to King three
clock is tickin' time
turkey bastin' -- let it be,
thrice cooking ...heat lickin'
Fahrenheit two hundred nine...

Farseeing, slow cook toil
like desert gravel boil,
mesquite leaf grind,
Darjeeling, still no oil

Mocking birds don't mock,
'cause beads of sweat pock
meaty cook's forehead
and his big arm-like hocks

Cigar meshed and wet
between monstrous molars
ash mixed in pot sweat
and ash falling to floors

Foliage swept and ground
watered in morning rain
added dandelion to mound
pewter pot boilin' plain

Beads of sweat
... form stains
on chef's hat ...
his legs and neck strained

Pot's right!
... he exclaims
Grandpa was right
... it is the same

But whoa it is tough
... to embrace today
what some remember
... as good old days.

But down home we try
We're willing 'n braced,
To sit by and cry
... when we all taste:

Grandpa Willy's ...
... Wild, Turkey Chilli.

[pd. 2004]

Lord let me die in a Book Store

Lord let me die
in a book store

So my last look
is edges of books

let my head fall
on the bones of Elisha

atop collections
of Natural Curiosities

In the Barnes at noblesse
or Joe's Book entrance

let my arm grow limp
under weight of clearance

99 cent bargains in tow
of Pollack, Tristan and van Gogh

So I will have died
just as the dead rise

so, Please do not weep
over my face ... nor book

You might get wet
the type on my place

or dampen picture anthology
of one more LOOK .

[pd]

Patch

by Pat Darnell

Shadow won't stick
won't stay attached
sent me adventuring
for thimble and tack
'n needle to patch.

Patch where past
meets a future
but jealousy flaps,
cuts quick ... a
perfect suture.

No more than rocks
can walk on water,

with little faith and stuff,
to arms! ... say for starters
shadow always tempted,
... sure enough ... Seems,
Shadow always gets broader.

[pd.2009]

Don’t be codger to me old man

by Pat Darnell

I don’t like being tossed aside
I am fretting my fate
Kitchen spills may be small
But too many broken hearts
Simply we do not repair all
You hear distant voice
A fond soundtrack
Predestined of choice
And you fret and crack
I had my heart attack
I reveal my full heart ache
You listen but abate
As heartstrings leave slack
Difficult flat to mitigate
even for hummingbirds
to trans-navigate
You are Specie of Strength so youth say
Don’t be codger to me old man
I am not interested
And you are in the way
Or, as you don famously
To point out the way
To clues of nerve chords
To invert our shameful play
Thanks but no thanks
You play too many tricks
I loathe your blood anger
And garlands festooned
Like piñatas beat with sticks
Seeds of salvation are rand
And not in your hands ole man
Nor in the works of your hands
From raptors talons, I howl back to say
Into this imbalance youth threw me too soon