April 7, 2016

a veiled past said, " Hey, you got off at the wrong exit. " .....................#NaPOwriMo2016 octave oscillate minus one

'Gloria Swanson'
by Edward Steichen ©
1924, Gelatin silver print


Pan disappeared supposedly 
bar-tending at a goat owned 
burlesque club, one Friday evening 
sometime last year 
late in the Spring

"...he was last seen 
watching trees 
at the edge 
of the back lot 
turning into pinwheels 
because of René 
Descartes..."

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the radio voice 
goes off on a rant 
i am driving my soul tonight
reckless pop reach for a mixed tape 

i have been 
back from Europe 
six months since 
81 yellow corolla 
hatchback 5 speed 
wonderful bucket seat 
options i got 
being clever and needy 
space magic man 
about the climb 
and fall 
mechanical 
i devise 
devices not to feel myself 
folding one moment 
into the next 
i've curdled more than milk 
thin this way...

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here is an, I am poem 

finger tapping 
racing gears 
hugging lazy curves 
of country roads 
hearing the cure 
close to me 
the sugar cubes too 
all while high on lsd 

I imagined performing 
the perforated paper 
church organ hand forge 
the dark hymnal 
snow cone and reason 
liquid glass pouring(s)
dipped in Owsley's own 
eternity and bag of tricks 
stardust satyrical solvent seas 
sifting beliefs as directions 
from drift currents 
in things we think we see 
when tuned into

the between(s) 

off load into sad 
rolling s-tone-d  
transient go verb a path E
see express blood hump 
ten dons cart the ledge 
compost pleas dug a gain 
bloom thirst necessary sacred 
vein an emotional rescue

need has  
having to get away 
make everything 
whole again

and usually has weather 
demand extraordinary 
accomplished mad foaming lid insurances...

boil boil toil troubles hid provisions  
bubbles bottom lines 
giving a shit 
for both rain 
and ritual spit  
y
i cannot wear watches 
or wallets well 
because 
of 
field stupid dissonance 

though my hearing 
is wide spectrum dirty 
i am wash selective 
and probably selfish 
for life 

i like freshwater shell fish 
or least briny souls 
who can tolerate 
say they love me 
from time to time

i ask almost every her 
is having me 
a done nothing 
but run away 
from the death 
of your soul again 

i see the here 
we are at the end 
of things look 
in your eyes 
usually 
at the beginning 
but pretend 
not to notice 
until now 

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I knew sounds 
horses drawn 
over cobblestone 
after midnight 
carriage red light 
all business 
what night inherits 
tending of...

shadow craft arrangements 
strangely familiar 
lights flickered derange 
meant minted(s) means
morph noted rote-less dawn 
remains were read aloud 
and having this to say: 

"...poem,  
         you are dressed in maybe 
              flowers and Spring 
                    remembering 
              what might 
       have been
vaguely...

                   ...are you have you ever been 
part unraveling 
part story telling 
in courtly regaled 
               danced and things 
meant for your keep
stored side boards 
        blind scented to sleep 
           here kitty 
                 chews bolus man 
         gum on one bedpost 
       hitch cane nine 
     plain elves 
  with shoes 
for one another..."

EJR ©

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