Just needed to pop by the old stomping grounds-- not old as in no longer in use, but old as in original, the loved, the adored-- to point out that a lack of posting activity here has not meant a lack of writing. In fact, I'm currently taking part in a joyous writing challenge among a group of poeting friends to write 30 poems in 30 days. Tonight, I even more joyously caught up to the challenge-- if the goal was to be aligned with the idea that 30 poems in 30 days equals one poem a day. I reached poem 16 after the blissful revelation that these poems don't all have to come from the same place. I can't say exactly what that revelation means on the whole, but it was a rather liberating concept that enabled quite a few poems over the past two days. Some of them I am none too happy with, but others have been pleasant surprises.
Since none of them are actually finished, I'm not sharing them anywhere but with the few who I'm writing with, at least not whole versions. But I am sharing some first stanzas/lines!
We know that in space
the tendencies of bodies
pulls them apart---
The air smells like rust tonight. Yes.
And I was blessed, I was, I was.
Exegesis (skipping the first two lines of this one to get to some meat)
[...]You were the one who kept it clean,
scent of so many spices
filibustering our olfactory attentions.
Hung on toThere is an imaginary light tucked inside your
mouth. Reflecting the surface of imaginary waters
you roll with your tongue, heavy with fish
What to call you
Nigger comes from the Latin root niger
which simply means black---
but they were not fond of our brotherhood either.
Your death was a cacophony of awe
The postman only rings once for you,
but for you---the ringer is a barrel of flames
sent spilling across the black [...]
Reaching for the middle
I can see smoke dancing in an empty room and know
sooner or later this will all be over,
the last beat of these wings in fury against the tide
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