June 25, 2013

poems, all kinds...

photo by Edward Rinaldi ©


using passive aggressive destructive fertilization techniques to write

salt slash burn the urns
I need ashes
I need causes
to tie ribbons around

I am hating the heat
the blank look
the mirror gives me
when I ask questions
of myself
I am sure
not to like
the answers of

lazy man
having fed myself
a diet of worms
and other crawling devices
of personal and emotional decay
these poems are somewhat easy
in that they have
two dimensional handles
I can pretend not to see

I am a million pieces
I am endless fibers
that know better
I am long kelp
waving hungry mouths
feeding on the seas
the rich mud and shit
that gets kicked around
town to town
person to person
in a communicability
of words
sometimes this will
marshal disease prevention plans

those ribbons again
pieces of sky falling
I am not caring
about my whoring parts
my coalesce
of aggravated aggregate masses
my finding a pathos
in lone swirls
teemed with morasses
and the getting on
of my satisfactions

there are many kinds of water
that this world knows
as well as eyes
that look upon it with
each one
with a story
that we were
all rain
once too

and each time
a storm comes
I have come
to know
the permanent
critical points
in every one
of my falls
they are each
a clean
infinity
each a surgery
of skin
to bone
to soul

and somehow
I have come
to know
I am choosing
to live where
there is
still chaos
beneath
where
the words
go


EJR ©

3 comments:

  1. where there is still chaos beneath where the words go...i hope i always stay in that place...

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  2. "there are many kinds of water
    that this world knows
    as well as eyes
    that look upon it with
    each one
    with a story
    that we were
    all rain
    once too"

    love these lines! waiting on storms here too

    ReplyDelete
  3. "choosing/to live where/there is/still chaos/beneath/where/the words/go"

    -Good, because as far as I'm concerned the only alternative, other than a life of zombiedom, is to lay down and die. What I like most about this poem is the idea of "two dimensional handles" on poems. Cool idea; I'll be thinking about that....

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