Monday, November 2, 2015

November 2


  1. You Are My Sunshine
    (after Paul Botello)

    A man sits alone in his head which is like a room and remembers a woman who comes to him. A black cat arches its back against the man’s pant leg. The woman in a blue dress comes into his head where she sits on his lap and brings her mouth close his mouth. He can feel her breathing. This wakes the boy at his side, the boy who always wanted a girl to kiss him. Her skeleton has left the body but she is soft and warm. The sun and moon do a dance in the window as green vines shoot up to embrace her bones.

  2. Question # 57

    Children have questions they ask, always with the prefix of why? Always with the questions as they are always questioning, like the times mom and dad spend together holding each other and they ask if they are loved like they see, they ask why they feel bad when they are punished and if or not they are loved? They ask why grandparents no longer visit them and where they go after they go missing? They question where their siblings came from and why they did not notice when they were little as if the baby was someone else to take the place of the love they wish they had received when they were growing up? And of course the deeper questions as to where we go when we no longer live? After we end our lives, where does life go to, into the ever and ever part of life, or why does it not just stop and have a permanent end. These questions a child asks plagues adults and we as parents try to explain, instead of not knowing the answers and admitting we do not know we come to say the tooth fairy will take your tooth, the devil will disobey, the God will comfort you. Why do not say death is part of life and the cycle is nothing more than living in the life we have without saying we will live forever or the end is not going to ever exist? Why do we answer with a life forever, everlasting in the way we explain where grandma and grandpa go and where their sister of brother came from? Why don't we just die the child asks, as the parents say, "I don't know."

  3. The Greening of an Ovum

    The warmth of being
    is a heart in a hand
    palpating seconds to the hour
    gushing arteries
    in and out
    oxygenating flesh
    in and out
    breeding life
    in and out
    digesting stories
    in and out

    The warmth of a soul
    is a sun in a hand
    twisting symbols to the air
    sun and moon
    red red rose
    small wood toys
    twining black cat

  4. Yes these eyes see, the maudlin mockery you make of this family. Fondle that ass you cuckold clown. A fist withdraws its victim rage, while holding a heartful of dignity. It’s a heart pulsing with life your smallness has never known. Wisdom wafts from the teacher’s skeleton breath as he transcends the folly. As the full moon weeps through the stillness, teacher extends forgiving light and death’s compassionate rose. You don’t even see what you have done to this family. Your son who once idolized you, now bricked into a cynical world. Gone are the toys of childhood, black cat now cursing their fate. Fondle that ass you cuckold clown, god speed.

    1. It is so interesting to see the different points of view people have written from on this picture. And this was the first prose piece i've written. fun.

    2. You nailed it too. As you know, I love prose poetry. It creates a wonderful poetry ramble.