May 9, 2016

with gad fly abstractions

photo by Edward Rinaldi 

we gained foot holds 
wet sand somewhere 
off the coast of any where 
warmer than here, our
hands huddled over 
barrel fires burning 
anything found, not edible
scavenging food and fun 
sometimes with questionable 
methods and means 
so we tended not to drink 
so much when feeling remorseful 
on those nights we filled in time 
with our expression 
in a pin pain or forgetting 
what rhyme did to TV, once 
the "drug of a nation" 
sometimes we see 
ghost Gil Scott rail down 
the ever Sunday sermon 
aesop fable-ing atop 
marble slab-ville 
can't stand 
still stabbed 
when filled 
with you 
of eating 
the sharks 



  1. I'm all about bot-fly extractions. But this isn't that. A social gadfly, as it turns out, is something entirely different. And when it talks in abstractions, it can be quite the little mixer-upper, which of course, makes it my favorite kind of person.

    "we gained foot holds
    wet sand somewhere" ... This is when you're walking the beach with someone, maybe trying to be romantic, but then they quick-like swish-and-drag grab your foot and make you fall forward, face-first, into the wet sand.

    "any where
    warmer-than-here hour" Love this. This has to do with time and space travel (i.e., A Wrinkle in Time ... or Somewhere in Time [I LOVE that movie]).

    "hands huddled over" = hands huddled, dove her ... Dove [long /e/], dove [the bird], Dove [the chocolate] ... all energied together into a person with "huddled hands." That's when her hands smush up into a ball to have a private conversation with each other [with or without the coverings of puppets, I wonder?], in an attempt to decide on the next (way [in which] to) play. Then her own hands attack her (dive [jive] on her), but all in good fun, I think. Squeezing her own neck, set to music, maybe.

    This is also about homeless people, in various such and so ways. The churches want to get them saved, but not meet their actual needs, sate their hungers, or provide them with clothes.

    "sometimes with question/able" ... because we understand Cain but are confused by Abel ... it makes more sense to be selfish and murderous, really; we have to work hard to figure out how anyone can give all they have and remain tenderhearted ... but I think we question because we really do want that for ourselves

    "methods and means" ... Again, being angry comes naturally. We need no explanation for what's raw or natural brain-veined.

    Oh, clever: "so we (bar)tended not to drink" ... because if you're serving others, you're not serving yourself; and if you see them trashing themselves, then maybe you'll be less inclined to do it to yourself ... but this is probably a plan devised to backfire eventually

    "remorseful" = re-Morse-full ... I do feel fullest when eating code.

  2. "on those nights we filled in time" ... in-time makes this musical, filled-in makes me picture an empty grave; night-burying something/someone with background music ... what song would you pick, and what would you bury? Rhetorical, if you want. Memories, people, seasons, selves. So many possible stories here.

    "in a pin pain or forgetting" ... I wrote this whole thing about voodoo last night, but then I lost the comment. Now I don't remember exactly what I said. Something about how those are our only two choices: making ourselves, or others, voodoo dolls ... or forgetting everything.

    That guy is cute! Gil Scott. Can't wait to further research. I love it when you name-drop things for me to look up.

    Okay, what else did I say ... I said I loved the meaning-layering employed in the closing seven lines. Like, I can't stand. That's one thing. But then you add that I can't stand because I've been stabbed. Stabbed into still. Stabbed while standing still (which tells me that I should never stop moving, if I don't want to bleed; plus, even if you've been stabbed, maybe if you stay busy/active, you won't notice the pain/blood so much). Then I find out that I'm only stabbed when I'm filled ... then also, when I'm filled with you. When I'm filled with you dreaming. Filled with you dreaming of eating. :) Then eating the sharks. Well what on earth might sharks represent?! With that closing you just untold me everything. I'm left feeling that WTF did I just read feeling, which is my absolute fave when it comes to poetry. I want to finish feeling like I know less than when I started reading. That's what makes me want to go back and read it again and again and again, to develop stories, to sort things out, for myself and for you and for others.

    Then why do we start with gadflies and end with sharks? And how do gadflies eat sharks when you'd think the bigger would eat the smaller? But it isn't actually so ... when it comes to humans and politics and intellect. What seems small or negligible or stupid or seemingly senseless, well, that's the most dangerous. Even though it seems that sharks might devour anything that gets close enough, really, those who blab-blast-blue-blend their abstractions, and get brushed off for not saying much at all --- well, they're really sneak up and crunch you up with their gums, won't they?

    What am I saying? Nothing. Nothing at all.

    "aesop fable-ing atop" = I sop, fable-ing a top.

    That's when you're all sweaty wet, and telling people they're wearing shirts, when they really aren't. This takes me back to the earlier thought about the homeless/needy, being "reached" by the shirt ... working so hard to spread the good news, but not always the good clothes. :) Plus, it means lots of other things too. But now my hands hurt from typing so fast. And I'm sure you're eyes hurt from reading all my nonsense. So here I am, stopping. The madness. Stopping IS the madness, I think. Go go go. It's all that makes sense, be it in body, spirit, tongue, or fingers.

    1. like the brushes over the snare ...