Larry Kimmel was born in 1940, in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. He holds
degrees from Oberlin Conservatory and Pittsburgh Universesity, and
has worked at everything from steel mills to libraries. He has been a
published poet for the past twenty-five years and has five collections
of poetry and one novel, listed below:

 

Lights Across the River (poetry)
Pedal Point (poetry)
alone tonight (haiku & tanka)
the inadequacy of long-stemmed roses (cherita)
the necessary fly (haiku 1995 - 2000)
Cold Stars White Moon (ebook)
A Small Silent Ordeal (novel)
_________________________________

All of the above titles are published
and/or distributed by Winfred Press.
_________________________________

blue pulse
a Winfred Press ebook
of short poems

Larry Kimmel

__________________________________

Copyright © 2002 by Larry Kimmel

 

on the porch
by moth light we sit -
not a word between us
_______________ 

 

just walking sidewalks,
a stranger
in a strange town,
when a child from his lawn
says "hello"
_______________ 

 

alone tonight -
a moth taps
at the window
_______________

 

 

picking up the dime
from the sidewalk she shows
the bird nest
between her breasts -
         and then her beard
 _______________ 

on the wall
where I live
a watercolor of home
_______________

 

 

                                   k
at the string's end the no
                                    t
 _______________ 

 

 

shaded by wisteria
the old man tells his tales
_______________

 

we argue,
yet this other sharing
of our differences -
           such sweet
           pornography!
_______________

 

 

       tired from a day
in the field, I close my eyes
           apple blossoms
_______________

 

 

She is departed.
I look at the trellis
and the roses.
I look at the hills.
I have nothing to say.
_______________

 

 

gembun

 

Vienna, the sound of midday traffic

           in a stifling room
           practicing the cello
           - nude
 _______________

 

 

in lieu of porn
reading the office supply
catalog
_______________

 

gembun

 

only grass
where the homestead stood

           even here
           I am far
           from home . . .
_______________

 

 

cruel words
the inadequacy
of long-stemmed roses
_______________

 

cherita

 

teasing the mirror she strips

not wanting to waste
the few good years she sees

in the study below
her scholar husband
living a life of braille
_______________

 

 

new to the fire the log hisses
_______________

 

 

hearing your fame
on the radio, I go
walking streets of leaves -
longing to see you, I ache,
having no success to speak of
_______________

 

a man in a bathrobe
walks the halls -
how much time has he left?
_______________

 

 

          April shower
I have never danced naked
              in rain
_______________

 

 

looking down
on that distant page
of meadow -

a railroad train straight as a sentence
and I too mountain high to read its noise
_______________

 

on stage with
the cello between her legs -
I think of her mole
_______________

 

crowded subway
getting raped
and never knowing it
_______________

 

 

gembun

 

  the stir of curtains on a clover scented evening ...

                       in my fingers
                       the feel of his logic -
                       Johann Sebastian Bach
     ______________

 

 

I have loved
three women.

As for the others . . .

a handshake
in the dark.
_______________

 

 

can-----------s---t---r---i---n---g-----------can 
_______________

 

 

these first cool nights
a neighbor burns apple wood ...
it's not so much memory
that comes wafting back,
as a trace of legend
_______________

 

 

gembun

 

autumn leaves and wrought iron fences

              the novel long deferred
              memory
              without meaning
_______________          

 

inside the weeping willow we kiss
_______________

 

 

cherita

 

death and distant thunder

the question
I dare not ask

a spring breeze fingers
a
hemline
_______________

 

 

    walking past her window as the light goes out
    _______________

 

 

cherita

 

his clothes to charity

unpacking the suitcases
of the vacation no longer awaited

finding
the Valentine meant
for today
_______________

 

cherita

 

after twenty years again the room

the room my son
has rented unbeknownst

the room where I woke
to a carpet of spiders
that weren't
_______________

 

the tilt
of her head to undo
an earring -
fortresses crumble into
winter moonlight
_______________

 

 

always

 

it may be
the shadow of
a hedge
or the dusk of
a tool shed
or the darkness
surrounding
a party
but whatever else
it may be
it is always
touch and go
for lovers
_______________

 

 

spring breezes open nightgowns

_______________

 

 

cherita

 

rooms to let

late sunlight
on broken factory windows

with
my best buddy's
wife
 _______________

 

I stick with the
weather

the erotic jive
in her eyes

     shuts
     down
 _______________

 

cherita

 

our luck to be alone together

in this coolness of stately pines
your extra warmth as I enter

not wishing to litter
we bury the unnatural
under a stone
_______________

 

 

cherita

 

October sunlight

hearing her love laugh
from another room

staring at a knothole
in the red oak
flooring
_______________

 

having run out
of propane
we go to bed early -
her warmth the length of me
this winter night
_______________

 

cherita

 

she turns from the moonlit window

her breasts
cradled in her arms

and how I ask
are we to be
just friends?
_______________

 

 

gembun

 

the usual sorrow at the usual hour

                      in the lustre
                  of the silver tray
                      the red rose
                          darkly

*********           *********            ********* 

Acknowledgments are due the editors of the following publications
where these poems, sometimes in different form, first appeared:

Hummingbird, magazine of the short poem
Lynx, journal for linking poets
still, a journal of short verse
Tanka Splendor, anthology

____________________________________________________

Winfred Press

364 Wilson Hill Road
Colrain, MA 01340

Enjoy our Winfred Press ebooks by Larry Kimmel,
of haiku, tanka, cherita, gembun & short poems.
See tangerine antho, and our Winfred Press catalog
of printed books, Winfred Press author bios and
Winfred Press haiku bumper stickers. Drop us a
line at Winfred Press.

The Cherita
Blue Smoke by sheila windsor & Larry Kimmel
Larry Kimmel - Collected Poems Online

Click for: 

  Winfred Press homepage
  the necessary fly (ebook) 
  Cold Stars White Moon (ebook) 
  tangerine (organic anthology) 
  Bumper Sticker Haiku
  Winfred Press Catalog
  About the Authors 
  Order Form
  Links   
          

Winfred Press is located in western Massachusetts.
It began in 1993 as writer and poet Larry Kimmel's
desktop publishing business and self-published poetry
chapbooks. Since then we have expanded to include
offerings by other local writers, still maintaining a
strong emphasis on poetry. We are very pleased to
offer what we believe to be a unique literary item: real
haiku poems on bumper stickers. As publisher and
writers, our aim is to get poetry out into the world, and
putting short poems on bumper stickers struck us as
one creative and effective way to do just that. Currently
Winfred Press is not reading submissions;
we have a substantial backlog and would like to give our
full attention to the current and upcoming lists before
venturing into new territory.

_________________________________________________________

New Poems added to <blue pulse> October 2005            
Copyright © 2005 by Larry Kimmel                    

 

 

One Tree Island

 

holding my eye
she undoes her blouse
my strict attention 

an arch smile
then photons clothe her 

wavelets lapping toes
the forest lake
there to receive her

wading out
till her breasts float
voices

diving under
a flash of bare bottom

she waves
from the one tree island
an exaltation of larks

______

 
in a shade of pines along the lake's edge
           I clothe her
           in a bikini of kisses

_______________

I Step Out On My Porch Near Midnight

Snow,
flecked by moon made mica. 

Cold,windless air—even
the roar of the woods
is faint tonight;

And faint, too,
the creak
of my leather jacket—faint

As the rigging of a galleon
heard across the seas of time ....

While overhead
Orion faintly flickers.

_______________

Meadow Gospel

Where the grass is luxurious, she lies 
with an arm across her eyes, her skirt to mid-thigh. 

What the mind can't spit, you live with 
as a kind of shrapnel or you digest it. Food

for a healing growth. Enabled by the cooperation
of opposing wings, a butterfly lilts about her.

_______________

We did what we could
read their letters, figured their taxes
good neighbors they -
                  now just a cellar hole
and the lilacs in spring.
_______________