of interesting turn of events, segues
or otherwise bridge developments
between scenes inside the mind's eye
of an s-dream becoming congruent
with the outside waking life world
was this a paraphilia side effect
of poem's saw-toothed graduated arrests
or had I just an unnerving feeling I might
have been in kansas before, at some bright
white light dorothy gale named diner
in some one phone booth town desolation meant
to have stood me out in the middle of a no where
wear i would be struck by the tall signs
covered in neon come-ons
looking like radiant flowers of a future
this dream might actually get me to see, taste
and be a part of
an abandoned missile silo stood above this
fifties sticky era shiny chrome and fins delicious
though i didn't find out about it
until after i had ordered the meatloaf
as i was informed to do so with
the instructions mailed to me
in dropped bits of ticker tape carried
in the beaks of bluebirds
who among us has wealth
to give besides love
love is the only weapon
the cries in the crowd go out
remember jonestown
the people's temple
nothing survived except
mind control and death
our humanity as presently constructed
is a telomere explorer vanguard nightmare
the breakdowns:
time wants us to inherit something
beyond description
we can call it agape
or a grape without an "r"
wine sir, i am told repeatedly
is served in the next life time
perhaps i would have known
to only request
this nirvana
by package
to come back to
if i were a mayfly
instead of a tortoise
on the galapagos
bind bind our dogs
carrying our lab coated egos
we courted rich feudal lands
where gate guards are paid to say
no one serves 2 masters
i whisper to my dogs
enter there
serve yourself
i'll wait here, outside
where flat breads
and rain fall
from heaven too
i've a two year supply of food
so I burned the boat
that carried me here,
my humanity to hide
has to decide for itself
sugar coating or bullet pointing
can i massage the decision
to do or not to do...
what ye will be is
what ye want to see
in one's self
any glory to penance filled road
any cold to constant burning
of edge and headwaters turning
you towards trying again
soul to bone compact
the rivers and mountains
make you hold on tight
to an image you have
of what me is to you
some whole wholly holed
lick music leap
tryst tying keepsake
sighted to an archer's volley
solemnity bells toll
tea and sandwiches
crusts cut off
picked little squares
these canapes purloined
from a new grocery store
that opened down
near 4th and fulton
spells work in me head
mutter mutter flutter by
turn wobble enticing antigone
with stuck in eyes forever
my wanton ways, damning shell games
i pray to fires lit by a cliff drawn sea
my fuzzy logic skills in empty chalkboard dangle
scream countenance eye be damned
shark snark lark sparks fuel dripping down the lines
i fall in with herded tinders weighted flint locks
they message their kindling to gather before it storms
i steal from their blind side remember when selfies
had to be developed and how i loved to sneak me
onto someone's camera, left unattended
preferably a stranger's, i leave a note, camus was here
and so was your need for more
and when a stranger steps off train
a depot receives him as much as
a tingle in one's finger does a blood cell
returning home in the iron rich
clothing of a heart and lungs...
EJR ©
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
Delete