seeking clay wheel carnival beat to grow up in ...........................................................................................................................................................#NaPoWriMo2016

beginning to dig out 
and clean myself up from here 
I courted tinder and spark 
spinning, I remember 
everything as an aggregate m-ass 
spinning at first, I remember
I thought about dying
in the beginning of this poem
but then thought better of it
and decided to torture myself
and you   
                     
                  (behind the green door 
                       or fourth wall etc...) 

for a few stanzas more

the first sign
I saw was
the last sign  
she gave me 
certain of goodbye
in her eyes

"...the marijuana peddler-ship 
was about to set sail again 
johnny seed-ing along 
apple winded blossom-ly..."

there was no notification given
it had gotten colder
it was night had forecast
me, I was a crept oblivious
any sav-i-our-ing point
long since passed \
when I needed to 
be paying attention...

now is past incision words
it's not only whether 
I am choosing staying alive
as a simple test of nothing 
or a return to simplest 
pie man same-ness...

they say our taste buds take awhile
to come back to, after love's lost
they are selling salt by the tub
on the ohm side lines
what they use
to corral intention
should they find us
before our bones
some spring from now...

maybe music
will be played
parade goers 
respect things:

filing past
the ashes
a song
story told
of being
found poem
in rain

you see there is a whole host
of prayin' in my pockets it's
where poem says getting lost
one last time say locks that sit
in and under clouds\shrouds\calendars\colandars
with pasta left in the sink\ointment frog 
skinning dip wishes
the ambulances start to come
as the madman waves
his taped wrist writs
one last go around 
these parts...

here the poem presents 
with chorus sounding
something like this: 

"...oh lord please give me
webbed toes to dig into
let me wear leaves' kiss
bleeding tannin(s), lips
smear o'er me, 
oh lord please..."

the trailing shell-less
sluice factory black
womb-wall built in(s) 
this cadillac heare deville
wrote down every name
thought of and remembered
while thanking 
the entire band 
out loud...

this is what I was
when aware enough to
dot salamanders marking
the ways to where
joy held the dark
at bay with rhythm once

music can die
the refrain
explains in fade
without ever
having made
a promise I kept 
though I will have
this haunt melody
lingering in the scent(s)
of places I leave
carrying my future
in broken pieces
and mending poems 
under the rust 
and sorrows 
of streetlights 
and homes...

EJR ©