tomorrow the internet will have vanished
tomorrow suits and mothers with children
will roam the streets and get to feeling manish
empty cranies in their guts will get filled in
with earth cold water and molecules by million
and everyone will kind of shut up
sew new beds of leaves and burlap
the color of a squirrel's coat
through walls of NITROGEN
are only sacred
and is all that is sacred
blues greys greens and brouwns with red and orange and all other colors
but the kind that can be found
when you're paying attention the way an infant does
like each moment is a disaster or upheaval
those wide eyes we keep coming back to
verse and meter are given a brush of the eyes, less wide
but a respectful brush
no man feels shame
no lady regret
Rhyme royal was going to be a company picnic for me
with everyone drinking whatever makes them feel
just adventurous enough without eliminating their personal values
but it's hard to have fun at a picnic when your shower emits only liquid rust and black calculous oil
internet will have vanished
no man feels shame
keep coming back to
eyes
regret
shame
fun
everyone
Ben I really am fond of this and the images you chose to accompany it are perfect
ReplyDeleteI kept rereading your comment to my rhyme royal because it was so thoughtful and helpful and made me aware of things I didn't realize I was thinking about inside of writing that.
in the first stanza I was an old man sitting while fall happened around me and all of a sudden folks who never paid heed to me did and it was full of awe
"those wide eyes we keep coming back to" and I was an observer looking at an infant wandering through an illustration on a page with woods on the borders
"but it's hard"...I was at a company picnic with a strange rhyme scheme
and then a valley of empty comp bits
the end made me frightened
[I would love if we could continue responding to each other's posts. this kind of dialogue invigorates my brain]