Any impressions. Free verse but I’m still working on the lineation. Thanks.
mill pond
there is a place where we all agree. example:
i agree with almost everyone at the mill pond
and they agree with me. they will share bait with me,
warn me about a sunbathing moccasin, and save me drowning. of course
i look like i belong at a mill pond—with my scraggly beard, cane pole
and chaw—and one simple pleasure is both the beginning and end of our content and common goal. as the noon sun thaws our winter blood, we are hardly cynical about motives. what does “cynical” mean? what are “motives”?
it goes without saying the new york times
and washington post are not for sale here.
but if they were a different narrative might prevail our place and relation
our “consciousness” as it were
i’d look more suspicious no doubt—
a white supremacist, a misogynist,
my joy in the catfish they caught
patronizing and paternalistic. and i
have my suspicions when I graze
a hornets nest and my swirling dervish
sends them bent-double with laughter.
“dance, cracker! dance!”
until! the wall street journal is sold here
and we are all global losers again
which we are, taking a break from the soros plantation
and our last stop to oblivion.
Thanks. I kind of agree. I’m into a run of prosy, discursive poems and should probably channel some of that inclination to novel writing as you did. Here’s another one from that queue written in one sitting. Any better?
Dirty Old Man
“The realities of the world affected me as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became my every-day existence utterly and solely.”
― Edgar Allen Poe
I’m 65 years old and got the first
Piece of pussy in my life tonight.
Visual but effective, for both of us.
She said her best ever. I said
The feeling is mutual. There was a “slight”
Generational divide, to be polite,
But God said:
“I understand. The lost time
And she was when your mind was right.”
Adding, uber Educator that He is,
“The visual praxis can only help you
See My face more clearly— ‘Transfer of Learning’—
To think ‘God’ and see God green in glory.
Spring! In the dead of winter. Or in old age.
Good for you!”
And God was right—I do see Him, and Spring,
Even readers in the room this morning
And two are quite amused but—horrifically–
One is raising a very vivid knife! Why?
I see that too. And soon impending death.
Your answer, God, to terror?
“Simple,” He replies, “Tomorrow night get
Yet another piece while in the shower
And see her scratch marks on your back.
See! See! See!
You’ll get used to it in time.
You’re that good.
Any impressions. Free verse but I’m still working on the lineation. Thanks.
mill pond
there is a place where we all agree. example:
i agree with almost everyone at the mill pond
and they agree with me. they will share bait with me,
warn me about a sunbathing moccasin, and save me drowning. of course
i look like i belong at a mill pond—with my scraggly beard, cane pole
and chaw—and one simple pleasure is both the beginning and end of our content and common goal. as the noon sun thaws our winter blood, we are hardly cynical about motives. what does “cynical” mean? what are “motives”?
it goes without saying the new york times
and washington post are not for sale here.
but if they were a different narrative might prevail our place and relation
our “consciousness” as it were
i’d look more suspicious no doubt—
a white supremacist, a misogynist,
my joy in the catfish they caught
patronizing and paternalistic. and i
have my suspicions when I graze
a hornets nest and my swirling dervish
sends them bent-double with laughter.
“dance, cracker! dance!”
until! the wall street journal is sold here
and we are all global losers again
which we are, taking a break from the soros plantation
and our last stop to oblivion.
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Free association. That’s my impression. Doesn’t really go anywhere?
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Thanks. I kind of agree. I’m into a run of prosy, discursive poems and should probably channel some of that inclination to novel writing as you did. Here’s another one from that queue written in one sitting. Any better?
Dirty Old Man
“The realities of the world affected me as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became my every-day existence utterly and solely.”
― Edgar Allen Poe
I’m 65 years old and got the first
Piece of pussy in my life tonight.
Visual but effective, for both of us.
She said her best ever. I said
The feeling is mutual. There was a “slight”
Generational divide, to be polite,
But God said:
“I understand. The lost time
And she was when your mind was right.”
Adding, uber Educator that He is,
“The visual praxis can only help you
See My face more clearly— ‘Transfer of Learning’—
To think ‘God’ and see God green in glory.
Spring! In the dead of winter. Or in old age.
Good for you!”
And God was right—I do see Him, and Spring,
Even readers in the room this morning
And two are quite amused but—horrifically–
One is raising a very vivid knife! Why?
I see that too. And soon impending death.
Your answer, God, to terror?
“Simple,” He replies, “Tomorrow night get
Yet another piece while in the shower
And see her scratch marks on your back.
See! See! See!
You’ll get used to it in time.
You’re that good.
Alternate last line: “And death.”
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Like two different poems glued together. The second poem begins when the knife shows up.
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If that’s its only flaw, I’ll take that as a compliment. Keats ran into the same criticism for the last two lines of “Ode to a Grecian Urn.”
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