June 14, 2012

poem 187 of a poem a day for 2012



too sweet a jelly roll

(“I was wise enough to never grow up while fooling most people into believing I had.” Margaret Mead)

I am tining Margaret Mead
with rusted cars and dying stars
painting my portrait 
with the scalpel of time
I have pilfered my last humanity
I have sold it for magic beans
to vine myself to anywhere but here
there are these ghost vestiges 
of faces I’ve worn to stay alive
that are now choral gangsters
cutting down my thoughts
with arrangements that play
on in my head

perhaps I‘ve been dead
for a long time now
and I haven’t awoken to that fact
perhaps all the seed birds
of morning are merely
picking off my crumb trail reality
from the woods I'm in

I walked in looking
for someone else
that feels what I feel
when I mirror the world
as being alive
or perhaps I just need
another saint of anthropology
to dig up my bones
and distill my extracts
my exact formula
for raising the dead parts
past hot air and
into the rain again

you know begin
with a few notes
and hum along
pretty soon a song appears
to know my name
from the inside out
and I shout ferociously absent words
into the filling of an empty soul
and hope poems fall
from the sky
that neatly tie
my life together

EJR ©

2 comments:

  1. Loved this!! 'I mirror the world'. ~ struck a chord as well as your anthropology of time and 'tying your world together in a poem!

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