January 27, 2015

transported by wine and rum...

"Friendship of Don Quixote" by Octavio Ocampo ©

transported by wine and rum

so yes, I am drunk writing this
does it ever matter for my poems
most of my humanity is rife with cartoonish 
cartographical resurrection cynicisms 
and can be counted on for fulcrum metaphorical 
two dimensional duty in a variety of plot-lines 
including the calendars inside
each of the parades of fools I fall into

maps, I decided
as Cervantes had said 
(this obviously is a device lie) 
are a Don Quixote insurrection 
they steal nothing 
and placid angle 
my time 

your character exhales 
became legion 
tales told they are 
where we were when 
we eyed kingdoms 
as womb thirsty returns

you revise 
devise matinee serials 
sought after quills 
image shills
bank on loyalty 
to innocence lost 
and a willingness
to pay to remember

here is where 
my human ripe lives
each of my bent fragile desires 
somewhere beneath simmer
wading bubbles, spits 
and seasons 

bit bridled iron is a long con 
progress and modernity 
pretend to use satire 
as a way of understanding 
place and quantifiable causes 
why lust is compelling 
enough to sometimes not want 
to see the rest of the world

so now 
I sit weary 
and worn 
past midnight 
there are 
cold gales outside 
and it is still 
trying to snow 
weather was 
always more faith 
than science 
I believed

just as my soul 
wears the hat 
that brought me here 
spyglass-ing hems 
and horizons for words
treasure seeker white noise 
between high tides and lows 
sweet chariots and shadows 

as for the barrels 
we keep things in 
they know 
stories store
who we are
here to there 
and where 
we want 
to begin


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