Goddess, the southerlies have returned...

painting attributed to Kano Domi
'Barbarians from the South'
ca between 1593 and 1600

Goddess, the southerlies have returned 
(let us go down to the shore, there is a ship)

whereas the previous few days 
have been cool at night 
and the air crisp and clear...
heat and humidity 
wobble belly 
Northern Hemisphere Summer 
coming stumbling along near June
a-rolling, tumbleweed thunderstorm 
tucked into an inn fuck, 
with shit like, attended to
as if everyone were a phone 
and a chain link fence 
a painted poster show 
judged by the coins 
filling or not 
the hat on the walk 
besides our feet...

the old time movie star 
parades promotional material 
hails maternity profit centers 
lineage wishing trees 
bark stripped bared nostalgia
rope swings and strange fruit 
the unhinging of venerated jaws..

I don't know when 
I am going to eat next 
so I gorge now, in the breezes 
of ritual...

Shirley Jackson is Mayor here 
she loves chances, luck will take 
to ensure blind process is revered...

what stoned wear 
have you, she says...
...to pay 
homage to 
when hungering 
passage past 
the void
to thrive...

is it raw
is it warm 
still moving 
is it wriggling 
hooked on observation
are your gyration optics 
committed at birth to buying 
what your soul smells, 
on the black market, 
at bowling alleys, 
stoplights, corner stores 
and roving farm-stands 
of found art and wild fruit...

perhaps yes, the rabbits 
always knew, keep the warren 
as mobile-writhing-homogeneous 
and near war ready as we can...

this, the poem and you do demand...

EJR ©