I am not here they say.
Lately the beginning has been found
which now must be denied.
The backyard pool startled by plastic dinosaurs;
the eagle stripped from the sky.
the collated soul sensations between rains
when dry thighs rub against hot sand.
the starry night unfolds drip by drip
the dull gleam of the gift
a leaf in the canal
the moment when fire settles into ash.
a cancerous denial resident in receding smile
a prescient anger within dull bones,
a charter of courtiers, sharp cheeked.
the rotten carcass floats in the shallows
blue to dull orange.
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Says old folks home to me, where we shove them and forget them, shame most have their minds pretty much intact with their younger selves, they remember sex, smoking weed and having a good time and we see them as useless, frail and decrepid. I try to remember that age is a given..we'll all get there someday.
C
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I like this one. -
Where ya been?
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the last stanza...my pool in August...ick
Line by line I follow you
images cascade
still with me
help!
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Morning Lute. Nice title. Sort of reminds me of:
"Greeeeeeeeeeen Acres is the place to be, farm living is the life for me, land spreadin' out so far and wide.."
I think this is sad. I think this is about poems, unpoems, and people/humanity in general. Plastic dinosaur starling the pool is an excellent image. To me, here it symbolizes things that are fake. And the moment when fire settles into ash is vivid as heck - I can hear/see/it. The sharp cheeked - well because of recent personal experiences or two that just seems like critics but I don't know for sure. That's what it feels like here and there are many of them - the charter of courtiers.
You know -- if you stand on the beach and look out over the ocean, the view is pretty empty, one has to look beyond the surface - underneath to where all the action is. Sometimes poems are like that ya know.
Unfortunately, the dull gleam shines even in the sadness. or should I say Fortunately?
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