Here’s another tidbit from our July journey. I fear I may have taken some liberties in it that I hope my fiber artist friends will forgive.
the sky is getting ready
to spin: see how she cards
the clouds on the teeth
of the ridgeline, drawing them out
in strong, straight lines
I’ve been off the grid for a few days, which has left me lots of time with pen and paper. This poem riffs on things I saw while traveling and does not necessarily reflect any actual geographic location.
city of bridges, you dangle from the neck
of the mainland by spider
webs and steel, a jewel on the breast of the bay
as it rises and falls, breathing
with the moon
I should have taken a picture before we finished all the takeout, but alas! Thank goodness I have this coloring page to give you something nice to look at.
we are the fortunate
cookies, we who were flat
but now curl
moonlike around thick
middles, cradling happy
advice and lucky numbers
in our crisp bellies
The long Independence Day holiday weekend allowed ample time to both celebrate and catch up on deferred household chores.
“Adventures in Home Improvement,”
Episode 1,249: In which our heroes make
the genuinely shocking discovery
that the bathroom outlet is not on the circuit
they thought it was.
Today’s post is traced from D.H. Lawrence’s “Peace.” (Click here to see the source poem.)
Purpose is waiting around the block
Purpose, creamy purpose dissolved.
My life will only find purpose
when the cafe opens.
Secret, penetrating coffee,
secret as rush hour traffic,
swimming like a lovelorn mallard up the river against the tide.
Buildings, parks, cars,
always in the soft haze of coffee.
Buses inches from the corner,
and the corner just yards away from the coffee shop.
Purpose dissolved in creamy coffee around the block.
Within, deep brown coffee, always with purpose
till it opens subtly, inviting the day;
to race always through veins,
warm creamy veins.
Call it Purpose?
One of the things I (re)discovered during Lexington Poetry Month this year is how much I enjoy playing around with poems. To capitalize on the momentum and habits I’ve built up in the last few weeks, I plan to continue writing and posting daily.
In support of those intentions, I found a lovely new graphic for the month of July. I didn’t have time to paint anything since yesterday, but my daughter gave me permission to use a coloring page she made this summer.
Today’s poem is a derangement of Langston Hughes’ “Blue Monday.” (Click here to read the source poem.)
Back to the grind
Down you get, surely. Monday,
blue and old, that down-you-get Monday
will deny you anything of use.
But Sunday and Saturday sport
that-a-way. Make it late, I’ve done ate,
and working to go
Thanks to a technical oversight, LexPoMo challenge participants get to post an extra poem! Hooray! When I got the news, I took a break from editing and tossed together a trifle from a list of prompts I had at hand.
Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.
someone is chewing gum
behind the green door
extremely close and very loud
everyone switches bodies (even if
they hate each other/especially
if they hate each other)
no one knows if there will be life
after the end of bacon
(For an entertaining sense of what burgoo means, click here and scroll down to the thesaurus section.)