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| from 'Les Diableries' via The London Stereoscopic Company LTD. |
(this is a poem that plays on experience
and the work we do as a now in progress)
It comes from a Statler and Waldorf-esque
on mushrooms balcony story time,
an old radio show if you will
that is constantly
background soothing
to ruffling feathers
and all other goings
on in my mind
*inspired by an accidental falling into
a rabbit hole mortimer mojavi show
INTRO
candle-d eyes bent on knowing scent
are what starlight falls through
bare exposed girders
in the concrete ceiling to
You hear the Oud
the lament of Syria
is in the smells
of tire fires
and spices
as they mix
in the night
pulley, lever
and tourniquet
listening are my weapons
of choice when
championing myself
OVERHEARD
<"We live in a bubble of fantasy. :(" + "WE DO...">
*quoted from an online conversation between Johnson Mortimer Johnson and K Mojavi Wright
two poets, sometimes found in and around the Albany NY area
verse one horde ready homily hominy
honey and butter gritty bits,
the ballistics of which are switch happy shit
we go riding off into our escapes with,
who matters most, you do I say
again you do motherfuckers
now get on being struck by Loving,
would ya, hungry lore stuffing
all the holes gone where
you're a whore for more ...
verse two is what gets to
beyond the red and the blue
old dutch houses and poet's blouses
I also wore velvet
jacket block heels
thinking Prince for a moment
petite monsoon ready purple
and calling the June
cull and cunning in me
as a presence in my own life
thoughts of why stay
when flying
I leave my body
kite-d by dying ...
verse three when you try
to time Love
your bones tie
doves and bows
they'll sing sting
bring wing a light fantastic
you become spasmodic
erotic tonic and toxic
to yourself, shelf Life hazy
heavy metal cellular accretion
and Descartes' reason, is why we get sick
here and now are artful modernity and the crowds
are milling, spilling unwilling out loud
clamoring and glamouring proud
what no longer surprises us ...
verse four and close out
storefronts guides
lords and ladies pied
above and below
they row grab seats up close thus
they can watch the war
in afflictive whispers
and daily rituals of time
head cheese and dissonance
rhyming the resonance clauses
they're all paused in
and the band plays on
we drag the crazy
from theaters and planes
from mercy into games
we watch clips, again and again,
explain to me if and when
explain to me, you hit send
why you need to feed your fears
when all it does is throw obstacles
in the way of you knowing why
this is the play you came to
and the choral elements gathered for one final movement
they birthed us this cellular circular hello --->
"Love, getting you was you getting through
with no regretting being your own damn self "...
<curtains close and little LED lights flicker to a LoFi beat, the theater doors open big fans surrey things delicious over them as they sit, stir and begin to amble, stilled by the after glow of what the fall of Rome this time meant, ships in the harbor, moored bones, empty souls, all seemingly waiting>
EJR ©
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