Maybe I’ll never post anything again so I can keep this at the top of my page. Crow, you kill me.
hope is the thing with feathers
despair is the thing with scales
i am the watermelon man
reduced to a slick white rind
my seeds swallowed on accident
or spit into the street
for angels to pick and peck at
eli, eli, i’ve been thinking
some days the color leaches
out of everything
some days the everything
tastes of pine resin
and trail dust
eli, eli
if you swallow a watermelon seed
one will grow in your belly
and then what will you do
always feed them to the angels
with the oil slicks around their necks
rainbow nooses
i’ve been thinking
——
It’s still National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 13
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Love the crowd
Now I know why I hang around here
Birds of a feather
In one hand
And a bush
What a snort
I’m ready for the day
As Sheldon Always
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Love the crow
Now I know why I hang around here
Birds of a feather
In one hand
And a bush
What a snort
I’m ready for the day
As Sheldon Always
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I love this! I often like going back to Dickinson and her poem about hope. I like responding to it, so I really enjoyed getting to read someone else’s response.
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Ha! I’ll stick the kettle on, Sheldon. Yellow Submarine on loop today. ‘You’re such a lovely audience.’
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Ooooooo, do you have any on your blog? I always think that Dickinson’s poem hangs so beautifully off the first line. Nice to see it holding the scaffold of this work too.
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Not yet but I plan to! I’ll probably post one soon 🙂
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Yay!
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I like to take you home with us
I like to take you home
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I tell you, I’ve written some weird stuff listening to this album, mate.
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