Lovelorn Poets

From Anchorage to Zebulon: In Search of Missed Connections

Lovelorn Poet in Boulder, CO: Haiku For You

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beautiful

beautiful

Your lips are perfect
Every thought is beautiful
Let me kiss each one

Here’s a haiku for the most interesting person I’ve met. I hope to be in your space again. I’m sorry I left it for a while.

 

 

Missed Connections are filled with good, bad, and space-hoping-haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one? Before you regret leaving, email the link to Lovelorn Poets. We’ll preserve those perfectly-kissable-syllables for all eternity. Thoughts become things, so be sure to kiss the beautiful ones!

Lovelorn Poet in Boulder, CO: The Girl From Naropa

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Naropa Flower by Vincent Horn

Naropa Flower by Vincent Horn

Hair as dark as night
Eyes that flash when she smiles
Tender
Caring
A bit naive
Full of so much love and hope
She gives so much
Not appreciated
Perhaps she was born in the wrong century
She is beautiful
Inside
And
Out

her two cents 225px

 

 

 

“Where are the poets? Take me to your poets!”
~
Dark as night with eyes a-smiling
The girl from Naropa U. goes walking
And when she passes, each one she passes
Goes “A-a-a-h”

When she walks she’s like a poet
Ginsberg, Waldman, Cage and di Prima
That when she passes, each one she passes
Goes “A-a-a-h”

 

Lovelorn Poet in Boulder, CO: Phone Poem

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Téléphone by Frédéric Bisson

Téléphone by Frédéric Bisson

I could have made some progress in my heart.
But I don’t think I can get to your inbox with the best timeliness.
This means I need to evict you willingly and then click OK regarding your computer-generated organizational skills.

But please contact me at least once again

and again

and again.

If you don’t see why I love the idea of being in love, then I’ll just have to remain silent on the phone

Her Two Cents

 

 

please contact me at least once again
and then click OK
I don’t think your computer-generated organizational skills
have made progress
and this means
with the best timeliness
I need to willingly evict you

But If you don’t see why
I can get to your inbox
I’ll remain silent on the phone
again and again

regarding some
I could
just then 
have to

But in my heart
I love the idea of being in love
please contact me at least once again
and then click OK

 

Lovelorn Poet in Boulder, CO: Alligator Moon Wanes

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Alligator Moon by Hank Connor

Alligator Moon by Hank Connor

The alligator moon
The last of the summer moon
Bright as can be
Waning behind the clouds
Peeking

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents Icon Native peoples the world over have given various names to the full moons which arrive every month: Harvest Moon, Pink Moon, Hunter’s moon, Snow Moon… However, when it comes to “alligator moon” the most popular reference is to the never-officially-released recording by Robert Hunter of the Grateful Dead back in 1978. Like all things Grateful, for this moon, summer never fully wanes despite the passing of time.

Lovelorn Poet in Boulder, CO: The Man Who Loved Balanchine And Tore At Leaves

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The Man Who Loved Balanchine And Tore At Leaves
Missed Connections in Boulder

Leaves: a ballet in black and white

Leaves: ballet in black and white by Michael Everett

The ghosts that you sent me are quiet these days.
I put my ears next to the pictures
and wait.
Javier the dead rat says hello,
or as far as I can tell,
he’s quiet these days too.
I talk to you all the time in my mind,
I wonder what the collection of our
unspoken conversations has amounted to.
If you imagine talking to me about chemistry
I’ll imagine talking to you about art.
Jack Kerouac was a hack –
his best features were the company he kept.
Ginsberg at least talked
about punk rock and getting fucked in the ear.

Can you say fuck on craiglist postings?

The trains are yelling at me, it’s late, maybe
they’re telling me to go to sleep.

I miss you.

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

Sometimes, you find or hear or see something so beautifully ordinary, but steeped with such sadness, that you just want to sit and be still with the emotion it creates. That’s how I feel after reading this poem. I look at the words but nothing can adequately be conveyed through my voice or writing.

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