Posts for June 29, 2017 (page 3)

Beans or Undramatic foreshadowing

What do you say to the batter
In the on deck circle that is
About to have an 85mph plus
Pitch aimed at him?
“Lean into it”
“You’re taking one for the team”
“If you charge the mound, don’t trip”
“It won’t hurt. That bad”
That walk to the plate is some fight
After school level drama
You don’t want to dig into the box
Too deep because it’s harder to bail
Too light and the same story
Is being read in tomorrow’s paper
All you can do is
Pray to the diamond gods
That the pitchers arm is worn out
But whatever you do

Don’t let it hit you in the face

As we lift off, the flight attendant announces
active duty soldiers are on board, and we applaud.

At the afternoon concert, the parade and the pyrotechnics
at the arboretum, will the fanfare feel genuine?

Will our troops throughout the world feel the lyrics of Hamilton:
“Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now”?

Will the U.S. special operations forces in Tal Abyad
hear the live cannon fire during Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture”?

Will protesters of the Senate health-care bill
see the display of fireworks from their jail cells?

Will the Army Herald Trumpets, the official ensemble
for the President of the United States, add splendor to the day?

Wrapped in weeping dough, 
her heart, the whole of it–
a self inflicted scar. 
She bathes in inky ebony tar,
and
an avalanche of feathers, 
everyday, knowing
it only took one kiss, to get like this–
The Remaining, goes on forever. 

(C)Edelweiss Meadows-Millstone

https://m.ugallery.com/art/photography-before-the-mourning-comes

I think of you most while I stand at the counter
and turn knotted cloves of garlic
into soft feathered piles
my knife pinched between finger and thumb
as instructed

When whiskey tries to claw its way
back up my throat
and I stamp my foot no
barring its path and dooming myself later
to be reminded of the tooth
you swore was growing in your cheek
while I wrap myself around some poor
unsuspecting trash can

When I drive across the bridge with the windows down
between your old world and mine
and I catch a glimpse of the night
I let go of your shoulders
and you held us steady
while I tried to hold the sky above our heads
with my arms spread wide

I’m trying to outrun the feeling 
of walking around with the letters I can’t send 
Maybe it’s just the season 
the bus exhaust blown in my face
the night air soaking my sheets
Whatever helps me resist simplicity of
I miss you and it’s not fair to tell you

But I miss you, and it’s not fair to tell you
So I’ll write again soon

Love always,

Me

Squirrels crack the wombs of seedlings
monkeys do this too
hawks take them
snakes bite them
all this done for food

Sinners burn bridges
the faithful do this too
they feed the flames
they walk away
all this over what is good

There’s profit to be had
in sins and the blues
blues singers believe in music
money pays their dues
they say that’s how it ought to be

we love catchy platitudes
we hollowly repeat
“love yourself”
in the mirror
only to be estranged
from own refelctions

we’re strange when we’re being ourselves
and after all this time
the evidence cannot stop mounting
all the words written, recited, screamed
spoken, sung, painted
or carved into the wall of a porta-potty

It’s no wonder
that this Frankenstein universe doesn’t stop moving
it doesn’t share our ego
yet it cannot be escape the echoe of our grief
can you blame it?
for leaving us
to inherit the Earth

This year the neighbors’ pool
was still green and cloudy
at Memorial Day,
a family illness delaying
the usual shock-and-awe
campaign to bring crystal
clear chlorine joy and radio
blaring frivolity to our summer.

This year, my daughters began
their upstairs window-watching
early and are rewarded
finally, finally
at the end of June:
not only clear blue water but
a two-person flamingo-
shaped inner tube
circling, circling
the blow-up raft a mesmerizing
spectacle of long flamingo neck
visible even at yard-level peeking
over the privacy fence.

Your words bleeding out
resonate in my scarred soul.
Pens mend broken lives

Friend of my misspent
youth, I would spend it all again, gas in
your green
Cherokee
to ride shotgun down to the river,
David’s turn the way
back. We needed for nothing, had
less
to lose but each other. I miss you,
love.

How heavy is your pack along the dustless never ending road
where no semis neither drive nor carry a self sustaining load
and Winnemucca is not an option on this eternal ride?

When you climbed into the coffin and settled down to rest inside
Did a demon or angel reach through the dirt and grab your cold hand
And whisper, “You’ve got places to go that are not bound by land?”

I’m still everywhere, man.
I’m still everywhere, man.
Crossed the cosmos bare, man.
No need for food nor air, man.
Of travel I’ve had my share, man.
I’m still everywhere.

I’ve been to:
Afterworld, Underworld, Nextworld, Fairyland
Netherworld, Lowerworld, Outerworld, Wonderland
Shangri-La, Gehenna, Arcadia, Bedlam
The Big Wide Blue, Mu, Nibiru, Elysium
Suddene, Lake Parime, Saguenay, Glory
Purgatory, Misery, Agony, who will save me?

I’m still everywhere, man.
I’m still everywhere, man.
Crossed the cosmos bare, man.
No need for food nor air, man.
Of travel I’ve had my share, man.
I’m still everywhere.

I’ve been to:
Shambhala, Takama-ga-hara, Heaven
Sierra de la Plata, Valhalla, Kunlun
Hawaiki, Kyöpelinvuori, Mag Mell
Muspelheim, Niflheim, Jotunheim, Alfheim, Hell
Axis Mundi, Gangai, Mount Penglai, Westernesse
Lyonesse, Ys, Mount Olympus, Meropis, Tartarus, what a mess!

I’m still everywhere, man.
I’m still everywhere, man.
Crossed the cosmos bare, man.
No need for food nor air, man.
Of travel I’ve had my share, man.
I’m still everywhere.

I’ve been to:
Xibalba, Agartha, Ayotha, Zion
Zerzura, Lemuria, Nysa, Avalon
Biarmaland, Cloud-cuckoo-land, Dreamland, Dinas
Aztlán, Affaraon, Mictlan, Atlantis
Eden, Feather Mountain, Kunlun Mountain, Yomi
Burotu, Diyu, Youdu, Immortality
Paititi, Felicity, Thule, Pathi, for an Eternity.

I’m still everywhere, man.
I’m still everywhere, man.
Crossed the cosmos bare, man.
No need for food nor air, man.
Of travel I’ve had my share, man.
I’m still everywhere.