Posts for June 12, 2021 (page 6)

Category
Poem

journey – call to adventure

a podcast about

                     psychedelics

my eyes are

closed

purple swirls

around the

dark

white lights

become amethyst

clouds

emanating from my

brain

which is not

               on drugs
but

I’m back in

1966 … wandering

the night

campus…

talking with

 

you

about what to

do

with our

lives

that moment I

knew it would be

poetry…

teaching

poetry to

kids

that moment

like a


star

above my

head… leading me

to

Bethlehem


Category
Poem

Barely Logged In

My experience with the vaccine is
that it’s done super well at showing me
how much I am used
to sleeping on my left side
by taking it completely away.

As such, I had to play
the most uncomfortable game
of exhaustion roulette.
Which contortion of the body
gets dropped into unrestful slumber?

And I certainly lost that game.
Every muscle and bone hates me right now 
and there’s an electrical storm in my brain.
Sunlight seems like it would burn my eyes out
and please don’t hit me with any loud sounds.

It’s like the shape my body got locked in
cut off the circulation of spiritual energy
and my recharge fizzled out
like the drool that pooled on my bedsheets.
I have no motivation.

Sorry if we had some plans made
because they might have just been cancelled.
Sorry if this is the only sign of life
I’m able to pour myself into today;
fortunately, it is still young.

But if this is what you have to do
to get through a day sometimes,
I’m okay with the occasional reclusion.
True friends will smile and say see you next time
while you commit your day to just getting yourself off the floor.


Category
Poem

Ricky’s Song

a diner outside gatlinburg,
two bland eggs over medium,
thin sausage gravy and a biscuit,
my wife has lukewarm steel cut oats.
smell of cigarettes and bacon wafts
from the kitchen,  Randy Travis
on the radio “tonight I’m sitting alone,
digging up bones.”

Atlanta braves play
on the muted television,
up a run in the bottom of the sixth,
and though an old man
at the counter wears a cap
with that offensive cursive A,
the crossbar extended
as a tomahawk, he spoons
his coffee but he doesn’t watch.
no one watches.

now the tune has changed,
“time marches on” Tracy Lawrence
sings, and reminds me
of Ricky, thirty years ago.
times when he had a guitar,
this was his favorite cover, except
for any song by George Jones.

I remember for one week
he wasn’t homeless.
he sobered up and got a job
at the west Huntsville waffle house.
he was proud to have us over,
his empty studio nestled
in among the hills, he knew each
by name on the horizon,
and all the streams which 
from them flowed,
pointed them out as he sang,
voice smooth as river stone.
Huntsville, Alabama was his home.

but that week, he had his own,
in his hometown, like he’d had
as a kid when his drunk uncle
taught him how to hit,
how to gamble,
and also his signature strum.
that week he had a guitar.

he fixed us loaded omelettes
over which he had apologized,
he said those browned edges
would get him fired if he
served them on the job.
they were in fact delicious.

by a mile better
than the breakfast 
now served.

and it serves him right, Ricky,
bless his soul,
that while I tell my wife
his tragedy, the cook
turns up the volume,

“white lightnin’”

is the song
that comes on.


Category
Poem

untitled

Wine and Spirits store
I am sad I can’t purchase
a ghost to take home


Category
Poem

The Visitor

Shove the papers in the desk
the laundry in drawers
the dishes in the dishwasher
still encrusted with grime
make a pass at the bathroom
the two-inch thick dust on the furniture
wash the crust from my face
Open the door when the bell rings
Smile, nod, pretend


Category
Poem

FINDING MY VOICE

Back in October, I couldn’t keep
a conversation alive, so out of practice
after months alone. Now, sitting
at a table of vaccinated friends, I tire
quickly, my voice a little horse
galloping into bright fields of alfalfa,
slowing, dropping into the soft
shade of hardwoods to rest.

Only child in a quiet house, I was best
friends with silence, or rather, happy
in the company of birdsong, the harsh
mystery of a stray cat’s yowl, the hooved
story pressed in code at corn field’s edge.
Let me listen more than talk, even now,
and I will bring you the world in a poem.


Category
Poem

At 4:23 a.m. the Cat Wakes Me

he sets my curiosity

“A rhythmic, repetitive neural oscillator”

ablaze in wonder

“sends messages to the laryngeal muscles,
causing them to twitch”

at how gentle rapidity of noises

“at the rate of 25 to 150 vibrations per second (Hz).”

makes me content, and yet

“This causes a sudden separation of the vocal cords,“

aggravated, of this sudden disturbance

“during both inhalation and exhalation -”

and yet, overjoyed at the concert

“the unique feline vibrato.”

 

 

* reference https://pets.webmd.com/cats/features/why-cats-purr


Category
Poem

Illusions

sometimes the

trick

is sweeter than the

treat

all poison

wrapped in

pretty paper

smoke and

mirrors

a grand illusionist

perfecting the art of

deceit

no one questions a

wolf

when he appears to be a

sheep


Category
Poem

PATTERNS

Spider webs
and Queen Anne’s Lace
cacti spikes
stripes on bees
tree limb angles
fossilized rocks
wings of butterflies
rainbow rings.

So many more.
Take a walk.
How many can you see?

-Sue Neufarth Howard


Category
Poem

The Bird

The Bird in her sputtered
Near the end as if in fear
Of leaving not fear of
Being gone but of leaving
Me alone and yet she knew
It was too late to turn back
Now and so she flew on