Poets We blessed and cursed walk naked antennae through ruckus - TopicsExpress



          

Poets We blessed and cursed walk naked antennae through ruckus world stopped to grieve a death 10,000 miles away displaced travelers, we read dust to find tiny embers of echoed hearts not plastic dancers upside down, playing elevator with a pole take in framed coffee shop window scene, translate elastic faces rushed out of shape into gargoyles, looks that throw stones like we used toss baseball cards against the front porch steps that didnt hurt stones in the face vibrate with ache rolled up hunger, fear, slaughter, senseless death, pillage - the hit opens up all doors glad some of them release solace, fragrant serenity to ease sore feet bleeding from sleepless nights we blessed and cursed beatitude bums learn early laughter helps avoid insanity lay flowers on the graves who couldnt last, got buried beneath too much tenement rubble hate, racial bricks, floorboard snap from too many potato chip jobs that barely get you across the street let alone across town we our tattered clothes shine life colors, forest smells, babys new breath lighting joy candles to see through the dark back into bone where words wait for a pet, let loose to sweat imagination lick everyone with words moist hot, passion hot, love blaze wiping away lonely tears, that holy water that washes our bodies, cleans our clothes for long haul early morrow, whistle blowin through killing smog, mad crowds rev up their engines to pass GO first and get a mansanto, gov inspected, health dept gold medal seal Coney Island holy mackerel, gee-wiz, bing bang Prize! we at the bus stop, wait, shake out pant leg cramps, retie worn shoelaces so we know where we can find our broken yesterdays, dip into them, sip something descent from our road map palm wait for some sparks to fly, oh they’ll come alright, as fast as a lit cig conversation makes that damn bus appear, those sparks, electric riff, hot itch word buzz we shake off this dreary wind smashed day, do something real, like make a poem © Jeff Cannon, 03/26/2014, 8:56 pm, at desk, inspired by Rodney Woodson’s rich reflection on poetry
Posted on: Thu, 27 Mar 2014 03:49:00 +0000

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