#NaPoWriMo 2015 no.10

image by EJR ©

in my early twenties

part1 ( hymnal-ized debauchery back staging )

by the time Saturday morning 
came in with the early light 
the seed birds were reciting
us disciples of Owsley Stanley

the acid trips 
were Friday night ritual 
ephedra sinica tea
to lift and breathe in
the ghosts 
of our river town

we each had  
desire for
this port slip 
and coal chute
saloon town
this forest and mountain 
meets the way to the sea 
depot full of thieves 
caught wanderers 
and every kind 
of trades person 
industry brings
was in our songs 
rolling poems 
set up jokes 
duck pin knock downs 
alley sirens 
and the quiet 
of our pressed
to lips fingers
when we were out 
with wonder and awe 
stuck in our eyes

we were felt fiber 
cut forms 
marked degrees 
the space 
between us
we were six pence(d) 
lark stumbled 
sometimes 

we remembered
pocketing bits
of each of our 
alone(s) together
bone ceremonies
of ash and stains 
we knew 
by heart


part 2 ( the flash in the Pan plays )

they are note 
eternal melodies 
and are ambulatory 
most of which 
live beyond our ears 
though any recognition 
of them, which while possible 
is likely an accidental 
divine articulation
becoming lost 
trying to exit 
someone's dream 
of them
in our dimension...

they are potent 
you need luck 
to avoid their slices 
and sharp unseen(s)
they are hypnotic riffs
one act one off(s) 
better said(s) than knots
rhythm clocks
and calendars
they keep the elliptical(s) 
from dying by giving
names erased 
to a past a place
to come and find us

they remind us 
to speak of them 
when howling or 
otherwise turning, 
tumbling or tuning 
into the keys 
of immortality
within each one 
of our lives


EJR ©