Saturday, May 22, 2010


mi ritrovai

I was plunked:

gadfly jitters, they

was swarmin the corpse

of our feast:

Noodletown ain't got

jitters in spirals,

they's the ones

with master plans,

5-year tooting,

scope and sequence

down Dante's dirty

dirt road; forget

the wood,

clearcut into

hellcat oblivion:

I was polite in

the old days,

now's I just

craters: it's all

in the synch,

all in

the run for cover.



Blogger Teresa said...

Muy oscura, but a great poem. I love the picture, and the jittery sentiments of the rhythm of your words.

7:17 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Forgot to give props to Dee for the prompts: plunky jittery spirals and State 3A baseball playoffs - all worthy of the poeta italiano del tredicesimo (e XIV) secolo . . .

7:28 PM  
Blogger Dee Martin said...

love the hellcat oblivion and the picture is eerie cool - is it local or a web find?
I think master plans are the quickest way to hell - too bad you can't see the scope and sequence ahead of time so you could get off that dirt road before the muck and mud claims you.
"I was polite in the old days, now's I just craters"
That line just kind of rolls around in my mind.
The boys lost their last game - Chase played with a spiral fracture, even diving for a base. Sad to work so hard but someone always has to lose.

10:07 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Yo, Dee: Web find. Did this poem first in response to your earlier comment, then transposed it here. I liked your prompty words; got no idea how we wandered on into Dante's dark wood. Tristi per quei ragazzi baseball.

11:22 PM  

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