April 30, 2016

Beltane is always adorned with this year ..................................................................................#NaPoWriMo2016


El Sol y la Vida
Frida Kahlo 1947






diarrhea alone will begin 
to kill more and more  
as future water 
becomes as dirty 
as money 
and synonymous 
with gold ...

deep in the slow doom 
we dance in election year gear
with a world watching us learn 
we were never meant 
to be as smart 
as we think we are ...

we need 
calendars without time 
jimi hendrix sirens 
squealing bends and bones 
righteous ones 
back from the grave 
from raining angels 
to the tiniest devil 
root toes of trees 
trumpets and violins 
jumping jacks and violets 
trump is violence, rod is ham 
they both want your clams 
and no ma'am 
you don't really 
have to give away
the taco but we don't mind 
if you do, though we need 
the ovaries
and the breast milk 
in an aside column 
this poem centers back to
clueless and voraciously reading 

The Fountain of Neptune, Bologna

finding classics 
are timeless fits 
pictures, moving too fast 
will steal words these days 
from the right to left 
audio visual semantically 
romancing the shallow pooled
emotions most easily tended
to, fanned and flamed





finding your own voice doesn't mean sounding like someone 
you've read per se or heard in your life or caught an exhibit of 
as entertainment somehow in this picture capture grabbing 
attention world of spanned shorter and shorter orbital memory 
units paper money was really cloth money and was did away 
with decades ago old timers camped under the overpasses 
tend to laugh into the dark especially, saying remember when 
and when alone and you hear yourself thinking in what ifs and 
I wish(es) then listen because your voice is near precipice sound 
and can now be found falling into fire and abyss as you call out :

the poems can sound 
as if a nursery rhyme were singing 
your wholly secret 
roller derby fantasy one more time 
those girls have strong legs 
and these days you need 
all the s trength you can muster 
just to keep carrying on 
in only three dimensions 
running with these kites 
of nostalgia during storms 
without wanting warnings 
or moorings even 
you seem 
to always end up  
saying every place 
is a place for you 
when there's no place
like it home

EJR ©

3 comments:

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    1. I wrestled with that last statement, going back and forth, from connote possession of warm nostalgia Kansas emptying or the real weight in the absence of a place like home to go back to ...

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    2. One of my typical post dream morning writes that I will go back to with magic eye loose hands editing in spinning wheel wet clay words with fire and a bowl of water nearby ... shape and form, what comes of mood today ... etc ...

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