April 23, 2017

in America, are we always going to be ................ Shirley Jackson lottery obsessed ................. NaPoWriMo2017 #24

'into the woods'
by Michael Hutter ©

it seems we have always 
strung the fun guy, here 
'tis easier to tar and feather 
public laughter than it is to fight 
what inside us is inhumane 
for as I age and not so often with grace 
I pause awl ways 
working in the wonder 
every chance I get 
knowing the heart seeks 
to purify the soul, 
home and abroad 
time and 
time again ...

last night 
we melted butter, 
made brownies 
with smiley faces, 
awe we wondered 
says to always ask 
if there is more wine, because 
some of us write poems ...

see eye goat  
ewe to ewe, 
I Love 
like stealing 
what Antigone used 
to sharpen a glow 
upon  her stick

this is but one 
world wide tongue poems 
palm dirty, further and further 
to where wear wears nothing at all 
we are where the electrons ain't ...

inland farther father Neptune seas 
siege, seize mother Earth, her 
coastal cities choke, mountains turn island 
our collective minds scream 
writhe tithe barter 
need, we beg Love with and for 
bargain profit prophet tier-ing 
while demanding to be entertained ...

we are particulated masses, 
and most of our asses 
are firmly planted in the go 
and keeping going mentality trap, 

frap whap snap 

<bold campy 1960's interlude
memories of tv batman, 
flash across the poem now>

and as it often happens with asses 
we all go to a church within community 
somewhere to hide 
in the secret places 
of our minds ... 

and here poem and I pause, 
a puzzle minimal-izing 
violin music fading, 
sawing into us 
it is Sun-day morning and the coffee's right, 
noon's approaching, warm 
and we can taste, each reach 
of our small yellow star's 
light falling the way 
it is supposed to ...



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    1. sometimes the floors of our souls need the on all fours spic-n-span ... ;)

    2. This comment has been removed by the author.