The Course of Empire Destruction Thomas Cole, 1836 |
we live in a time
when most forget
how to read
losing a feeling
of needing control
or needing to drive
in order to pretend
you don't know
that life is enjoying the ride
leaving little theatrical(s)
in the warm odd places
inside of you that
the light doesn't often seek
and it smells like beans and bacon
(a couple of soup starter jars from last year, opened into this po(e)t)
the fauns knew too ancient mammals
swam from the seas up swollen rivers
when Winter time, moaning something
about Jonah, Sigmund and monsters
She knew
to watch for joy(s)
She grew mushrooms
on found downed birch logs
shiitake mostly
went to NYC to barter with
a Korean sage
had a spore bank
liked the the Appalachian ginseng
this went on for seasons
though eventually even wild crafted goods
became little gold rushes
people go mad with want
Winter storms make me want to cook bubble & spit shit
sixteens ton poem bars jars with mason or snap fit lids
savory eats 2 candied sweets
beats are not symptoms
they are mostly ring tones now
bones on the outside of cows
head bobbing kingdoms
well well well
three holes ground
what can tell
me tolls found
to be high
tithe not tides
so while I am enjoying the loose slangy cling
of modernity
it is all organic chaos masquerading as free will sometimes
because lets face it we dance anyways sing to ourselves anyways
because let's face it we cannot sometimes relate or calculate
those places we see ourselves in the dark
when Winter blows
and nothing grows
but ideas ...
#poemfragmentplayingwithrhyme
#notaconstructionistpoet
#noduhstoner
#shitmanthatsgood
#gotanymore
#everyisbetterwithearlyseventiesjamesbrownplaying
EJR ©
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