April 20, 2017

with words, eye wonder, reading .............................................. NaPoWriMo2017 #21 .................................................................. (maybe I'll stop counting or numbering them and just pop them out like alien babies)


what colors 
the black 
and white 
of each moment 
we become aware in 
we are a ware in  
we are wearing  
what we were 
willing to sacrifice wholly 
while listening 
to the fuzzy cries 
of something ...
like mullein-poems, as lions 
are always hungry 
especially those 
that like to learn 
just to forget 
in order to learn 
reading pulses  
hearts and lungs 
reaching to drink 
this from another's neck 
whether weathered 
metaphor 
or not 
for example 
is one of our eternal tomes 
and really, a must read ...

I wonder why I get depressed 
loyalty to the soul it seems 
is at an all time low 
reading for pleasure way down too 
the act of reading in and of itself is 
less grand ritual of words, grace and intention 
than it is a terse propping 
up of shallow emotionalism 
easy consumption 
versus deep tined 
voracious free thinking 
ride that train 
for awhile without being 
a hermit, I dare ya ...

today I made the mistake 
of reading the news again 
crockeries abound, everything is rife brambles 
thorns and cults of access 
weighted bloom lotteries sold 
with a soothing kind of shyster spin 
a circus barker harking 
the din light, serenading 
in what maybe(s) me and again, 
what of us in the dark 
would unfurl, under imprecise 
gas lamp, wrought iron 
crept dew 
after midnight 
calibrations ...
is ten penny alley 
meant to be 
filled with echoed 
"I wonder"s, I wonder ...

I wonder 
about this current wave of apathy 
our ritual adhesions and hierarchies 
their corresponding riptides
tsunamis and undertows 
as I play mirror mirror-ing me 
in the puddle drop circles 
of an early morning rain 
do butterflies really 
cause hurricanes ...

is a chance to be born 
always going to be there 
for the you, 
you see trying 
to circumvent the me
I wonder, why, Love 
is not as commonplace 
as one might pace 
Life eternal with, 
is that childlike awe, 
I possess 
when reading, 
always going to be there 
are books always going to take me places 
or have me feel at home 
are they always going to be 
my saving graces,  
when I am most vulnerable
will they always 
be there ...

always?

I wonder,  

I wonder 


EJR ©



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 photo by me

2 comments:

  1. I love the ending of this ... the last several lines.

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    Replies
    1. I enjoy when the poem writes itself ...

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