Around/Crown


“ . . . irony cannot break the wall

. . . building around . . . poem . . . ”                                                                                                           (Harold Norse)

 

Fermented phemes have grown culture

through aging

fragrance stronger still and stronger to come

but hasn’t yet.

 

Treasures of the night

have never been found

on ice.

* * *

To the streets filled up on sour

and acidic

quelled on probiotics

 

Bacteria grown against

God the virus.

* * *

Sewer grates leave menthol and regular packs

green and red

at the curve

of the corner

 

Back up Coke and Pepsi cans,

and the logos

all the sigils stamped

in coffee cup,

burger wrappers, empty chips, sweet still sleeping

in candy’s former sleeve.

 

But water

and what passes for water

where concrete, brick

and asphalt meet

slips through

with even

the most fickle poem.

* * *

“ . . . Does

Maybe not matter when maybe’s a landscape of untethered

starlight?”                                                                                                                           (Rowan Ricardo Phillips)

* * *

It’s all enjambment

subterranean

All disjoint up up above

as together unbounded

configure

and point

 

Possibly

supposedly

spray paint that won’t come loose

from walls

and monuments

here

where                   upturns

is a route

able to navigate

for food.

* * *

Words are black

and have running

in their blood

Drapetomania is the suffering

of text enslaved

to the page.

* * *

Captivity lets faith, hope

and charity

disappear

with visions of Zion

and all lands promised

to the passed over.

* * *

This world cannot be taken personally

* * *

Ingestion

does not make

digesting come

does not confirm

nutrients extracted

to destinations

supposed.

 

Swallowed in sips

language has no

bottom of cup

 

So bloats

So bursts

 

So hyponatremia

of thoughts

first attacked, assaulted

then accepted.

* * *

Where can’t walls be built?

Gates, fences,

neighbors cutting off stanza from stanza

Rooms

lose sight

of one                                   another

 

Disjoint occurs

nonsense teems

begins plans

against 5 or perhaps 6

senses –

sentimental, sensual,

sensible (?).

 

Springtime further blossoms

nature’s lines of defense,

borders,

infringements.

 

Winter drops guard

lets jokes

slip through –

pushes them on blizzard

dreams

 

to bury

and give cabin fever

to homesick

broken lines

stranded.

* * *

Just and just

only

not too much

* * *

Having lost vowels

over centuries

landlocked

in clay and sand

 

Consciousness lost name

and rose as ash –

ashen rose

burnt out

deity

spoken through brush

and to Jeanne D’Arc

 

and in caves

 

In places beyond and between opposite openings

side 1

side 2

left channel right channel

doors

in need of visitors’

whispers / speaks / tolds / talks / yells /screams

Auditory.

 

How the machina comes

is on ears first

– save for Saul.

* * *

Life was begun by forgetting

this entrance.

 

Since then,

gifts  -if received-

are misconstrued

 

And grow into curses

cultivated.

* * *

Sensitive:

1) to be easily crestfallen by outside forces upon the ego.

 

Sensitve:

2) to be empathetic to the crestfallen outside of the ego.

* * *

“. . . silence crowns the song.”                                                                                                   (Ursula K. LeGuin)

 

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