heyhey so ..feels like i haven't been on here in forever...figured i'd drop some poetry &see if you guys still throw down the same ferocious criticism
untitled 1:
a sign shoved in the dirt
identifies the hamlet you've just entered.
each crop is a town spread over the fork.
years ago, inside their huts,
algonquins traded wampum, trembling in the ice age,
popping their corn to the beat of the glaciers,
exiled a rapist from mattituck to cutchoque.
now we smoke our own peace pipe
on the sands of the tranquil sound.
the only algonquins left are huddled in the bed
of a ford, laughing in the sunlight.
i walk down to the cemetery
i walk down to the train tracks
i walk down to cooper's farm
and they all climb into me through my ribcage,
and hide my poison under the grey
stones scattered through love lane.
some people built houses they only visit in the summer,
but they've never seen the inside of the broken down valise.
some people like to ride the carousel in greenport,
but they've never rolled down third street,
smoked blunts under the halfpipes,
picked crystals off the bay and eaten them for breakfast.
i tell the people that i know
about the great big world outside,
they nod and light a cigarette,
they speed faster down sound avenue.
some of us ended up in boston and some in manhattan
some are still battling the current, trying to escape,
but let's face it:
your graduating class parks outside sevs every morning
the men here have paint on their knuckles and black dirt on their boots
the streets are not spotted with lights,
but you know how to weave through them as
fast and blind as the blood knows your veins
when you step foot here, it's like a magnet grabbing your toes,
when you drink your cheap beer and
complain that your neighbor knows your business,
just remember that at least you've met your neighbor,
just sit down there and listen to the crickets in your veins.
untitled 2:
^^this one was drug induced
she leaves footprints and crushes mushrooms
along her way.
the moths and butterflies settle
in the glittering dust of her wake.
her garment wavers in the wind behind her,
but fades into the air like patchouli
-in fact all i smell is patchouli.
the shamans are chanting their prayers round the drum
the faerie dances away to the melody of a flute.
she reaches the forest and turns back to smile
her name is evonah,
she washed up on this island at dawn with
a mermaid on the back of a hydra.
her footsteps sound like giggles
when she dances with the trees.
she climbs into an owl's hole and emerges
with chestnuts in her hair.
a rodent lands on her and gently picks them off
she wears him on her neck until he
plummets for a branch.
all her threads sparkle when she sits upon a stump.
a white mist emerges
and a circle of mushrooms
(they don't appear when she sat,
they weren't there before she came,
they simply are).
i see her reach into the hyphae with one elegant arm,
when she pulls it away it is covered in golden dirt,
and there are webs between her knuckles.
what is she singing?
it sounds like the andromeda galaxy.
it looks like a chinese finger trap.
a fawn hobbles from a bush an lays down at her feet.
she smiles and plays the lyre
using clouds as wispy strings.
