Posts for June 27, 2021 (page 6)

Category
Poem

I’ll Bear Your Burdens Like Those Dandelions

Do you remember
how the first dandelions
of last summer danced?
How they cracked open
barren ground, splayed
paint-bright petals in
honeyed sunshine,
basking in blows of
the soft, balmy breeze?
We uprooted those
weeds the next day,
but they, so unwanted
and trampled upon,
burst open again
a mere week later,
blooming with such
a fervent ferocity
that I wished, this time,
to let them stay a while.
But gone they were,
once again, by dawn’s
light and my brothers’
sweat-laden backs,
only surfacing this
summer day on
a neighbor’s lawn.
Ah, I hope that
their kids decide to
become the keepers
of them, these
bittersweet, brilliant
strokes of resilience.


Category
Poem

my, what big teeth you have.

she looks like little red riding hood,
bundled in her crimson cape.
something prowls,
teeth bared.
dripping chemicals,
bruising up her veins.
the big bad wolf
lurks in her bones.
a snarl escapes,
smells of saline.
he just took grandma
and now he hunts for her.


Category
Poem

walking away

I have never stayed too long
Tho I am sure I have not stayed long enough
Always leave them wanting more

Only have enough that you can pack
In one or two bags so you can leave quick
Leave only a memory

Always wear comfortable shoes


Category
Poem

ALLocution

he said

if I would agree to
change my last name

he wanted to marry me


Category
Poem

Forecast

Storm clouds of words
Building, jumbling, growing dark and swirly,
Only to stay aloft, or vanish with the heat.

Unable to spill out of my mind.

The drought continues.

A sprinkle or two bring hope for relief.
Maybe today I can speak my heart.


Category
Poem

Mercury (Theoretically) Moves Forward

Concerned, as I am, with constellations and bodies,
and aligned with my recent obsession with forward motion,
                                                                                                 I  googled 

the opposite of retrograde–
tripped, stumbled, collapsed face first
on a post on a board where someone discussed
a discussion of the opposite of retromingent,
(which is not a word, I’m quite certain, but
they said, postulating, was the act of urinating
backwards).  But what is the opposite
they queried, because, clearly,                                                        
                                                                    urinating
                   in a right and proper direction
was of their utmost and imperative
concern.
                                                  Discussion followed,
as such things follow, online, never once questioning
why on earth, or any other planet (though the question
of comparable gravities might, I assume, lift another
concern (and the molecules, at that, of any liquid, let alone
a body’s golden secretion)) a person might need
to use such a word in polite (or any other) conversation,
but necessity is, after all, the mother of excretion, be it
science or language
or stupidity.                       

                      Some replies began to trickle, others pooled,
experts in their fields (again, I am sure, because: Internet) 

of anatomy,                                                                   
                                                                            astronomy,
          
               linguistic archeology                                                    
                                                                 (assuming)

      and                         any                                            other

           random                                 -ologies 

til the joint cerebral spatters seemed, more or less, to accrete
near or within the prefixes pro- vs. anterio- and

I feel it incumbent to say:  Anteriomingent does, in fact,
deposit a finer taste on the tongue, as it were, but

I decided to close my eyes,
walk out and away,
make a hasty exit

moving forward
with prograde.


Category
Poem

another sucker to love you to death

yeah, so i’m super sure
that before i die i want you
to try to do everything
you can to save me.
i mean, don’t run up a bill
we can’t pay, but yeah
let them put in a valve
or a hip joint or new dna.
i get it. we promised to
try and stay here for each other.
if i can’t speak, find a blessing.
if i need a wipe, welp, then
serves you right. if i die,
put my ring on your
right hand and (nice try)
go look for another sucker
to love you to death.


Category
Poem

OH JERUSALEM, THOU COMEST

There’s no whimper in him
Old man Sam stands admist it all:

Women in Babies’ Arms
Wings on Angels’ feet
The last lost day of Forever’s Eye
Singing  Singing into the Fever of the Heart:
OLD JERUSALEM, THOU COMEST

With the waning season’s hum
Old man Sam goes shaveless 40 days,
40 nights slung down in dark dis-repair,
His infinite bushytail gone to eternal oak
His hollow men in hollow logs.
With half his sons gone over
His know-how fails ginst the boss of the sky
Everyone’s Sun now merciless with loss.
Days he calls “Time-makers, blocks
On the calendar to draw
An X across as they pass
Like faceless strangers in parade.”

Still his sabbath for Mather’s word
Said aloud for childless ladies
Though under his collar 
He sees how Eliot saw
How for the end of the world
There’s only the end of the world.

(for Sam Brevard, one of our best (nature)
writers.  Thanks Sam)


Category
Poem

SUNDAY SERVICE

A June breeze beckons to worship in this
cathedral of filtered green as the regular

choir warms up in the trees, a back-row
Pileated punctuating practiced notes with her

own harsher beats. Eyes open, ears wide to
wonder, we pray, as those robed around us

in fur and feather lead the day’s liturgy. A first
passage murmured by creek water and stone,

then, the call and response of hens and poults.
The groundhog waddles in twitchy and late
as usual.


Category
Poem

Off the Road

Friends hike the windy tundra in Iceland
or explore Utah deserts. We walk to The Big Kahuna
where the barbeque chicken tastes of pineapple.