the poem is the voice
it is the instrumentation
the notes, floats
of propelled forefront-ed
nascent binding(s) ...
humanity is
two dimensional stage craft
poems gives ambiguous line-less
character to color outside
to inside of us
have you candy in your pocket
Yes you do, She smiles, knowing it's true
pied stitcher might witch Her
and away this vignette-ification goes
grows pretense, patterns stains
though towed company lines
state clearly, there is
a directed intelligence
a spirit vessel
a stored, storied us ...
the audience needs
no board or three panels be
they are what
the eyes want
nose knows
they grow fond
discovery sweets
tonic journey
bitter poems
to the fine
stilled parts, distilled hearts
thus ...
<most poems need a three faces of Eve>
<Lilith bloods a piece of silk, says retrieve>
the past is pop
when first lens-ing
its stored flavor
it fizzes, whizzes by
reaches high gas spry
but as all things will do
eventually, the kite burns
and that captured moment
falls flat, ash and dried posies ...
my funny valentine plies plays plumes
feathery chaos hero questing leaden marrow for bones
those pauper rich soul holes where the rain got in
and I hear the jazz half notes, rote(s), jumping points
from leap pier fog, you dream in fingers, I dream in dreams
what magic, like fungal under-lords,
carpet slow advances then retreats ...
we've grown, groaned against beat fantasies
our oh so human intermittent kneed needs kneaded
particulate sand-grain seed selves
we've crowned shelves, cobbler-ed
most somewhere(s) & between(s), what
the wind makes, & each take of time, when
toe holding the letting go(s), why
riding infinity means
as many hello(s)
as goodbyes
wise is
this way
you dig
warm bread
and sometimes ...
EJR ©
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