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| my electric kool-aid mr tumnus look |
(this poem is characterized as being without title)
prima parte
are we at war
with those
that would
eat souls
have we holes where the rain gets in
are we fixin' to be an it or even better
a cheddar get-ter
rolling down hills
gravity for wings
do we sing terse songs
do we seem old but feel
we were never meant to be
here now, at the end of the world
cellular level break down
brake down telo mere a mere tell
what have we ideas of if not, us ...
the singular soul is old at birth
longing for a company of fools, sages, animals
and page after page of books yet to be/
the budding redolent air
ripples with caterpillar scent
(archetypes in the middle of a poem)
seconda parte
everyone and no one
the wind waits
each of us and none of us
time eats
what we project
clocks kill
what we protect
I am not a grand painter of worlds
but rather a smooth river stone story teller
who finds commonality to lens
feelings of hey I see myself or others I may know
in this scenario/landscape/imagined world
do I take from you all ... your cadences your projections your visible spectrums
yes
do I mine what I feel is the underbelly to it all/ to us all
yes
so
let's have dinner
as a poem might
an Ethiopian style table
and roti bread cloth
evening pouring through
open windows
billowy curtains
and wall sconce candles lit
no utensils, no phones
nothing but what fun
used to be like
we'll talk and laugh
out loud, boisterous emphasis
on working our core muscles
our being, our souls
our why(s)
we eat best
hand to mouth
night
why it is
a womb
we always revere
why it is
the one mystery
born to us
we never need
solved
we bleed
maidens and squires
in the weeds
we want
price and place
we are willing
to become
crown thieves
the grifting of bejeweled
comes from ash and dust
limbs, lust and sutured time
bones are articulate masses
revisionist insisting sisters
they lack mercy
we deserve heresy
and as such
perhaps
every seed
will be inventoried
while eggs
are given
free reign
yes, we'll meet in Tunis
and we'll have tea
one last time
as the sea
laps up against
waiting mother
in the sand
and father
trapped in starlight
over the mountain
will hush us
to catch
her beauty
one last time
EJR ©
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