American Sentences

Peter Orlovsky/Archive of Allen Ginsberg Photo courtesy of New York Times

Intro

Ceridwen, author of My Georgeous Somewhere, introduced me to American Sentences, a 17-syllable form Allen Ginsberg devised from his reading and writing of haiku. You can also visit Paul Nelson’s website to learn more.

I’m going to start my own practice of American Sentences. Many of them will come from my dreams, others from waking life. See if you can tell the difference.

American Sentences

4/4 52. A squirrel, white belly to the sky, chin up, lay splayed, pinned to the gutter.

3/24 51. Submerge to see the whale–look up as a hammerhead swims overhead.

3/23 50. My son puffs an orb of dandelion seeds, triggering a clover blossom blizzard.

3/23 49. Racing past crowns of impossibly giant cedars, I fly skyward.

1/12 48. Three-hundred pound nurse in pink scrubs and crocks smokes - no one around to heal.
1/11/ 47. Dachshund drinks and pees a lot, his hind legs splay - he has diabetes.

12/21 46. Clumsy me overlooked the dog poop in front of the fireplace. (American Sentence for 3WW)

12/20 45.Telephone wires stripe clouds, weaving a tic-tac-toe board in the sky.

12/19 44.Dachshund wolfs turkey liver, deep bow of thanks to sacrificial bird.

12/18 43.Guatemalan girl raised in Knoxville kicks sneakers at crepe paper leaves.

12/17 42.Young punk in training crowd surfs then scalds insides on habaneros.

12/16 41. Mounds of fleshy poppy seed rolls: my middle under a blouse, sans seeds.

12/15 40.Pot-bellied chef blesses oil, secures his goggles, and fries a bird.

12/7 39. Boys leave cupboard doors open: Dachshund munches on raw sweet potato.

11/27 38. On the news: hordes in down jackets storm mall doors for Black Friday frenzy.

11/27 37. Redhead talks on cell phone in stall all during her pee and hand washing .

11/27 36. Steele vending machine taunts my empty stomach with Funyons and Fritos.

11/27 35. Latino laborers lean on cars in parking lots, hands in pockets.

11/26 34. At forty-seven I show no wrinkles because my smiles hide the lines.

11/26 33. Bull giants: football players sport tattooed biceps wider than my thighs.

11/23 32. Frontiers, chaotic lines where dunes kiss scrub: windswept habitats in flux. (This sentence comes from Photo Poem Thursday, a new site for…. more writing prompts!)

11/20 31. Big, blond accountant cracks her whip in hallways - stress relief Texas style.

11/19 30. Vermilion, topaz, maize: fall leaves brighter, but I say that every year.

11/18 29. Dung-skinned rats, fat, malignant, flit across the basement, blocking exits.

11/16 28. “Early is on time, on time is late, and late is for wizards,” he said.

11/15 27. Two bowls of turmeric spiced noodle soup - slurped meals on this cold fall day.

11/15 26. Al the bug man gave me a hug then wished me a Happy Thanksgiving.

11/12 25. Down South where there’s no snow I make breaststroke angels swimming to and fro.

11/12 24. My hands peel through pool water, pushing aside rhythmic, blue-jello waves.

10/30. 23. A pilot, hair cropped, shoulders padded wide, shows her gender through her voice.

10/30 22. The airport golf cart blares and beeps, shuttling people across the concourse.

10/30 21. Bearded man, hair spiky, looks like Brad Pitt traveling incognito.

10/30 20. She hunches over a foil-wrapped chicken biscuit just before her flight.

10/30 19. Zimbabwe stone carvings of mothers with babes return my heart to home.

10/28 18. A baby wiggles in my arms while I tote yoga mats and blankets.

10/26 17. Dachshund wakes up sneezing, and waddles to meet the early morning moon.

10/26 16. Five crows feast on discarded McDonald’s at the curb, good as roadkill.

10/26 15. Red-tailed hawk, black talons, onyx hooked beak, enters at night while I sleep.

10/25 14. Holding a boy with tiny shards of crystal encrusted in his back.

10/25 13. On cricket nights owls chant, faucets ping, and car alarms siren in the dark.

10/25 12. At forty-seven she gives birth to poetry and art, not a child.

10/24 11. Dachshund’s drumstick haunches tremble in chilly October wind and rain.10/23 10. My husband gave his mother a fine satin gown the color of flesh.

10/23 10. My husband gave his mother a fine satin gown the color of flesh.

10/23 9. Gang of Four filters from the basement, pounding my heart in an old dance.

10/23 8. Drifting through rooms laden with objects bereft of a home, I’m vexed.

10/22 7. My chubby dachshund licks water from manhole covers after the rains.

10/22 6. A backpacked school girl, head down, trots in the drizzle,a phone to her ear.

10/21 5. Colt bobs his head toward tender green grass under the shade of twisted oaks.
This last one comes from the Monday Mural writing prompt on Poefusion.

10/21 4. A spindly hair, sprouting haywire from the side of my foot, provokes stress.

10/21 3. My friend, follow me to the past, where we dance to Allen Ginsberg’s drums.

10/21 2. White pinhead bubbles intrigue the eye while swimming one hundred eight laps.

10/21 1. In puritan psyches float lust, betrayal, incest, and amnesia.