So now they tell me business is business, sometimes up sometimes down that’s the breaks, it’s just how it crumbles so many sayings, turnoff tropes to suppress the outrage to discount further cheap antics, the raw peeling of layer under layer of ripoff, of ruin: “Not to worry she’s dancing in heaven” we look down at this morning’s leftovers while upstairs, hammers clunk clumsily on a project going 7 years, maybe 9. Now they tell me.
How many times has it looked like the end…no way around or across? Three thousand and a half weeks Navigating sundowns, we’re still crossing over from morning wondering what the hell to learn, and how much was forgotten- Or bloody well should have been
Everyone’s a transplant and an amalgam– Alloy, usually hardened. Yet getting pliable and vulnerable is suggested – recommended. We know better than to require the exigent. Rebellious help is not help: just ask my friend the restauranteur. The food is fusion but the help is fission. Our way of getting through all this mixing and unmatching– is in our way.
still sleepy, reluctant/ but already we’re rising above the city/ easy still to make out the blockades below/ trouble in the streets down there/ next to us a man reads Leviticus aloud/ headline: prominent Chelsea backer is no more/ gate number announced sans flight details/ red wine or white? asks the lady with a sincerely insincere smile that works.
that wasn’t me carrying around town a big old bag of spark plugs to give more fire to
engines that aren’t even mine, that I’ll never hear or see… that wasn’t me
Standing there muttering on the phone, mattering as if you do, buses rattling and squealing, drills and picks demolishing and constructing who knows what. The din! Dusty umbrellas line the market lanes where granny shuffles past scraping her feet- not really meaning to be here. Frowning mothers drag their skipping, dancing daughters to lessons on how to do this, this which will no longer apply.
insistent announcements, overly loud but no one listening- another scarcely profitable sale. So many here do not belong to this place the trees landed blind like everyone else forlorn, twisted, stained, exhausted while their roots crack again the pavement.
Ask a Provocative Question- but no philosphy, dig? Or were you doing something else seriously? What would there otherwise be sans keeping us guessing? Curiosity: not something to lack, just a refusal to implement, momemt? This ought to be a call to action! No, philosophy is all, so stop doing the wiggleworm will you?
A wise fool said: attune yourself. accept the situation, show you’re willing to journey on, paved, straight, vehicle steers/shifts itself. if you wait. Still, so mad, unpredictable and ridiculous, we’ve traveled in actual circles! Must stay curious, philosophical, seriously unserious. Do you ever even — even ever, know… or want to know what I mean?
Appreciate this expression avenue you’ve provided. Just retired in Macau after 39 years in and around int’l college teaching, did Creative Writing with Levine, Everwine and Co. in Fresno late 80’s, born/raised among Yoruba in Africa. Here’s a pic and a poem. Dave Hill
IF YOU’RE LIKE ME Well.. you are and you aren’t. Example, don’t you paint poetry while I scrawl in Couplets on canvas? You’re warbling birdsome lyrics; I tug the taut wirelets of a damned GranDaddy Short Leg net. Speaking of measuring up, We’re both caught up in this quest among cobwebs Doing something with nothing Doing nothing with about everything Or would we have anything to do… With Each Other?