I say I don't care to gather lilacs this year
they will gather me, happily in burn barrel tactics
this poem is gallantly astride a white steed
the compact mirror was used to steal words
it is a signal for ants
to use against hopper gangs
as they are locked in eternal mortal combat
a prey and pray tremble waltz-ing
that was just singing at first
but all of Hades realizes
in their fight
when it is Spring
and when they're dreaming ...
the seed birds were carrying on
about the end of carrion days
halcyon holdovers old style
pushcart peddler post offices
tucked inside temple tall tile
and stone structures
life as we know it now
is click bait and waiting in line
and most folks can't figure it out ...
the what(s) they would want
to wait forever for
we think only we could know
where a line starts but clearly
we can't figure this corinthian
defensive measure
perhaps troy always
knew the value
of guarding
things
they give me a dirty look sideways
while I am at the passport window
on the very far end
of where the line began
but here they keep a-coming
a-shuffling against flow
like some slow ambled
dimwitted salmon Sisyphus
broken fisted going up
the wrong side
of life insisting
they are right ...
I snicker and laugh out loud,
saying I wonder if their humanity and heart
has always been bitten
by the importance
of being stupid too bug ...
and by the way,
your bloodless lack of soul
is showing, how is it you pane litanies
as if Rembrandt and DaVinci stole as well
as drank into material maternal madness
here is at the origins of what gives you the creeps
an inside flaying of the you, fear begins to hurl handfuls of ...
beauty is birthed
in the reeds
with little fanfare
some grabbed quick earths
and scoop and runs
stuff pocket
services and
steal away(s)
winged ones swoop peck
and devour the enemies
of flight
wear the crest
of icarus
those not willing to bridge their differences
in order to cross the other side together
through danger must die
at the hands of another's fate ...
Persephone is not a fan of free rides
as the hoppers know all too well ...
she has them holding bells in hell
for the eternally damned
while they rub their legs
concerto after concerto
in buzz lilt and dive
for the hiss of rain
turned steam, angry
at being caught down here ...
and as for ants once again ...
they are Hypatia stones, stuck storied stilled
stoic stored courage bearing(s)
direct text messages past mauling mob rule
and a softly hammered brutality
these hells are all capitulate chaos, mania and dis/order/
and documented inside covalent bonds
ants know more electrons will hug an oxygen nucleus,
so they antennae the electromagnetic difference
between pooling minuses and the hydrogen atoms ...
archetypes and myths know
offshore accounting worked for good
can make a difference
when re-telling prognostications
made during the annual ritual
calling of the royal house worms
with the trees in reach and blooming ...
EJR ©
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