poem: the backyard cosmos
sidescraping firmamentnavigating the inroads
left sizzling down your
western ways
it can't be real, the way
you size out the leftover
gams, the absent follicles,
the damsel in distress fairy
tales we tell ourselves , waiting
for the bus, waiting the quizzical
way we mention yesterday's
artesian memories
hollow out that cave down
the eastside, baby, the fishy-found
aftersweep, Mardi Gras debris
in your hair, starshine
sensibilities, brides of the candysquare
rubydolls, i ask you: been to the emerald
lately, felt the sweep upon
your skin, skedaddled
down the raspa-heavens,
the trailertrash prom
nights, Ihopping morning prayers,
them be the feet
you wuz dancing? Shebop
down the aisle, sister,
cement your future selves with
the abandon you expect in
the prettyways, your tolerance
for passion still sizzles the nights
still gallavants the backyard cosmos, still
amps the ramps,
apes the homo sapes,
articulates the particulates
nano-seconding the corollaries
expounding the capillaries
sounding out the phonetic
cavalcades of the cautionary,
revolutionary, coparcenary
kisses of the second round -
Labels: all the rest
posted by murat11 at 3:01 PM
6 Comments:
Sidescraping firmament - that goes right along with vagabond desires and handmade visions. Absent follicles? What is it about the word quizzical? It is the very picture of what it is - it just makes me grin to see it or read it. Goofy I know. Love artesian memories - I see them bubbling up - what a fun poem to read while I watch "The boy Who Could Fly"
There is something fishy about that Mardi Gras debris but the starshine makes it alright - then you bust loose for reals. Gallavanting, ramp amping, monkeying around with the clearly stated bits and pieces - I loved it though of course had to go to the google for coparcenary - there's a word you don't see every day.
(Plus Buffalo Springfield? Nice way to end a Saturday afternoon)
I like the last riff from amps the ramps and apes the homo sapes to the end.
This one was fun, even at 4 am!!
Dee: I wasn't completely happy with the Mardi Gras debris, either: I was thinking more along the line of cascarones, but the poet took a different turn: whatever the case, I wasn't (nor was he) thinking street trash, just dazzling, maybe even quizzically dazzling, confetti. As for coparcenary, a rhyming dictionary is a wunnerful thang.
Mr. Young and his boyz seem to have momentarily supplanted Ms. Bingham and her dancey grooves.
T: Glad you enjoyed the splashtown-riffy little dragon ride at the end, even if you were getting all splashtown-splashy in the wee hours. Happy Mother's Day your way.
been missing the emerald lately, matter of fact; loved the open range of it you've made around here. Summertime sweet, something to aim for. Thanks!
Anno: Michigan summertimes sound particularly sweet; I suspect they are considerably more humane than our infernos.
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