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The Ladder
My 2001 Quatrains Ranked by Your Votes (the results)

This is a dynamic ranking ladder of my poems that changes in real time as
votes are contributed. A poem migrates up the ladder in rank one step if it
wins a vote, and migrates down the ladder in rank one step if it looses a vote.


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Rank    
#721    If men and women have used each other up.
Then let's exchange our fish bone keys.
I promise not to flurry much.
And I'll stay like autumn leaves.
_

#722    Antique?
They had only one.
The teacher. I had my back to you.
Drop and disorient! And the spigot spun.
_

#723    Hang on. Hold the door.
I positively need some help.
Keys are stupid.
Whatever he does, I doubt.
_

#724    What do you name your friends?
Athabaskan vessels.
Fifth and fifty. Every-time.
Ginger, Jewel, and Hassles.
_

#725    Like a man's last cigarette lighter.
At the end of hundreds of them on a bar.
I look each day towards the permanence.
And wonder where you are.
_

#726    To the door.
I was down-looking at factories.
Philosophically-MORE.
Yes-yes what does that mean "Score".
_

#727    It's like the way you see the rust.
And know the meaning is there.
Inspiration is the hush of dust.
No matter what's there it cares.
_

#728    Only a music lover will rescue you here.
Sing at your own risk of shun.
Musical instruments are mixed with rescue gear.
But saddly not all men hum.
_

#729    It takes any-kind of steps.
Accounting-his "kind" of ring.
Deformed, you're not-to struggle.
All sad-days concern the Spring.
_

#730    Large man leaving movie theatre.
Pulling up his pleats.
Saying "there's that poor guy from that channel".
As he sees you choosing a seat.
_

#731    Richard Simmons so much more.
Weird-boots the Craven man.
Or smell or something I don't know.
When July-docks I'll understand.
_

#732    Because-I'm a baby.
Because I write on-and-on.
Because I taste for mountain soup.
The urge to copy-far is gone.
_

#733    The rut.
And the search for treasured gold.
Who can see further than their wife.
Yes. Eyesight is that old.
_

#734    Where is it sandy in the ocean.
In right hand to behold.
Hey Guy's! Don't be so tough.
Stay inside gets inside I'm told.
_

#735    Who knows where the good ones are.
With accolades dressed in thorns.
Explain the reason for re-use of boxing.
No passion when someone's born.
_

#736    That is just my way Howard.
I can finish the toys from lore.
It really is something big I can't let you study.
Two honey mints might war.
_

#737    I'm sorry we need more city timing.
Think months and months of that.
Happy go strange what is she wearing.
Listen and mention hat.
_

#738    With shadows from the pages between us.
I'm sorry about your ear.
I'll page myself often from the dance.
And just think about you there.
_

#739    I will almost "the almost start".
And trolley the almost wind.
My station is, whatever you've bought.
Much hope for when you grin.
_

#740    I used to love this stuff.
I mean "when oxygen is friendle-ing".
To hear it make the sound of thistles.
Babies in our jostle-ing.
_

#741    In the comfort zone this afternoon.
It always returns myself.
And sac's my freedom.
Sending it to someone else.
_

#742    Because there is a scholar.
As mission'd as the Queen's.
A prisoner.
To whom I "writhe" the seams.
_

#743    Plastic chips in goldman sacs.
Only hearts can hell.
Petty standings have heard the wishing.
Down with inner tells.
_

#744    Extra extra read "All about it Fears".
Sound will not yield a matching star.
Lint can vary news by up to 3 years.
A man is trying to grow moonbeams in a jar.
_

#745    Have you found the socks yet.
Yeah. Those band-aids for the soul.
In that river called the-washer.
A "lust" that strong I know.
_

#746    With headboards for such dreaming.
Such a climb it said.
Wakening for one moment.
That's radical screamed a thread.
_

#747    Gentlemen "man" your teacups.
Awesomeness must be fed.
And no one enters such a club.
Whom coffee burns instead.
_

#748    This man is genius. About things I want to know.
Like Cemetery fishing.
Big destinies. Dark Mittens. My corner. My kitchen.
flies within my bowl.
_

#749    Or some times a dog carrier.
Like so many things attached to horses.
So many arguments. And so much talking.
I want to thank all kitchen forces.
_

#750    And a vast machine, that the penny hogs.
Sleeping while I'm awake.
Is it a dance machine? Or a passion machine?
No one will see me wait.
_

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