April 3, 2016

an ode to the electric city from a trojan stopping in .................................... ( #NaPoWriMo2016 )






a spoke and knee rhetoric channel tv play, in two acts 
(first act:prayer I swear/second act:squeeze howl balloon instead of popping it)


to balance sugar use salt dear:


with every face 
Eve turns more 
towards her Lilith 
and Adam knows 
just to watch 
how they wield 
life and each other 
through every season 

sometimes 
being a man 
means being woven
with luck enough 
to become aware
even fleetingly 
of how sweet being 
caught in a woman's rain is 
and that these cycles and rituals 
we are daring to be drawn into
are houses to be built and razed 
as part of the steward/ship/s 
an ever evolving symphony 
with maestro smiles 
feeding tactile perceptions  
and a faith 
in intuition's 
base line 

-----------------------------

and this is once exposed:

comic antic ancillary scary 
vibrato terry cloth tight snap 
and you better be quick 
or the rhythmic slick 
will cut you thick to the bone

                   skin and flesh 
soul to sold penny arcade dime MAry tow two times stem cell 
  wet went to Peru initiation stages 

we carried provisions by ass 
up steep mountain sides  
switch back slow turns 
temperature fluctuating wildly 


      went out to ea
a wrought iron arch glass 
puebla tiled burning hearts 
palace with corner altar candles 
altering saints to slotted mother may eyes
in an old brick building next 
to the train station that was 
over my head outside 
describing this

inside I overheard 
an old fashioned ordered 
this was a margarita bar and taco joint 
and the kind and patient 
dark eyed vamp pipetted 
a now I'm caught 
a cherry absent face 

I could still look down 
at me but catch 
myself inside her shirt 
down a few slated salted rims 
if you know 
what I mean 

though that was pure fantasy 
the what if a poet slips in 
to induce a feeling 
interaction 
verbal infinities 
someday(s) and maybe(s) 
I and the certainty 
of wobble mood to Moon 
madness has always 
been my thing 
as is pursuit of joy 
though I understand 
the more higher orders 
of said jubilation is 
reaching for more than I do 
I'm honing my own 
stowaway sacrifice anyway 
so it is nice to pretend 
someone else like you 
knows how to wield my mirrors 
and change the weather 
or at least dance radio green apple step lively(s) 

dowager the street fanny 
shaved bricks curved along the curbs 
the trains overhead occasionally rumbled on south 
towards the Rensselaer/Albany rail station 
I could hear the conductor calling 
next stop in the poem...



EJR © 


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  3. we mustn't be silly have to wrap thy willy...low man south bound and again the orchestra pit is filled with those that didn't make the ark...so we listen to 'Bad Brains' and 'Burning Spear' instead...moshing the linguistics until we're sticky and no longer filled with dread...

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