A new book to house this year's (and future years) NationalPoetryMonth's daily poems. |
I'm writing once again this year. This book is my special event place for thirty special poems. Here for National Poetry Month in 2018, I'm participating but life has not been kind in the last 15 months, so I'm not always in writing mode. |
ghosts, flimsy in their marauding, need nothing else ectoplasm, white sheets, theatrical paint, well aimed howls long rotted in deep earthy graves, or immediately ashen by human fires-of-hell, they nourish thought, emotion and vegetable gardens in the country where bulldozers never uproot the home-grown compost of past generations their skin itches, like amputees missing car-crashed limbs and they wander in and out of liveable lives for warmth and we, cliché-fond and not-yet-otherworldly-savvy, reject and fear their impetuous, jealous and invasive natures chains rattle, bottles crash, cold drafts appear, Ouija boards predict conversations with Ravens and Sphinxes, nevermore in this state of nebulousness, we all err for part of eternity our gods abandon us for one last choice: to preserve our souls to haunt, to daunt, not to remain ensconced in sordid, rotting flesh human folly, like fake vampire teeth, orbits beyond imagination just theatre [2013.1.4…c] Prompt: too, too solid / sullied flesh |
chocolate eggs and rabbits to honor Ishtar or rebirthing our aching faith, customs mix with antiquated beliefs like flat planets unending resources, glacial fields ever frozen like human souls, knowing after three days so few will be truly saved from eternal peace let us climb Everest and breathe rare unpolluted air abandoning uncharged smartphones and virtual follies at the summit we dance with the devil, his invitation is renewable like a trash magazine subscription lose yourself in a book, caper in pulp fiction melodrama necrology titillates our mortality, for a few years while we can contest everything, until heartbreak explodes arteries and veins like overgrown labyrinths destined to lose us in ourselves while we pray each holy day, to find some kind of salvation Easter Monday [2013.1.4...a] Prompt: Human folly |