Thursday,
Well, this original piece, Johnsongrass, was created in 2oo6! Not the first poem I wrote (I started in 2005), but I was just getting the hang of things. Wrote primarily in monologue style. I've since changed to breaking up my poetry into stanzas. I don't know, feels a little more reader friendly in this structure. That's almost all of the rewriting I did to this piece, change the structure and changed a word here and there. In the picture: Me and Patricia Crespin in The Seahorse.
Johnsongrass
which walk the straight and narrow road.
I'd quietly laugh her rings around
her pale but ample body
as the blooming stars streaked 'cross her thighs
in blazing colored punch-lines.
an important part of my drunken landscape,
the weeping willow of my conspiracy with
your rather mossy side always my faithful guide
pointing me north toward a sacred promise
to live life one touch at a time without
earing any consequence.
so we could watch the fireflies play,
how those sharp blades of evil Johnsongrass
would prick our tender, naked flesh as we
made love beneath the stare of eternal youth?
watched TV in her kitchen. But no matter
how hard we'd try to stifle those ancient cries
of teenage pleasure, one would always slip-out
at the most inappropriate time—
"Nothing, Mom!" you shouted back
much too loud to be believable.
Damn, how we laughed at our own
inability to tell a credible lie.
Well, this original piece, Johnsongrass, was created in 2oo6! Not the first poem I wrote (I started in 2005), but I was just getting the hang of things. Wrote primarily in monologue style. I've since changed to breaking up my poetry into stanzas. I don't know, feels a little more reader friendly in this structure. That's almost all of the rewriting I did to this piece, change the structure and changed a word here and there. In the picture: Me and Patricia Crespin in The Seahorse.
Johnsongrass
A
simple heart bleeds slower
than
those more complicated oneswhich walk the straight and narrow road.
Awhile
back, when the moon
still
had a sense of humor,I'd quietly laugh her rings around
her pale but ample body
as the blooming stars streaked 'cross her thighs
in blazing colored punch-lines.
They
enjoyed a good joke as much as me—
as
much as we I should say for you were always there,an important part of my drunken landscape,
the weeping willow of my conspiracy with
your rather mossy side always my faithful guide
pointing me north toward a sacred promise
to live life one touch at a time without
earing any consequence.
Do
you remember
that
ratty old blanket we laid out on in your backyardso we could watch the fireflies play,
how those sharp blades of evil Johnsongrass
would prick our tender, naked flesh as we
made love beneath the stare of eternal youth?
We
tried—well as best we could—
to
never disturb your Mother as shewatched TV in her kitchen. But no matter
how hard we'd try to stifle those ancient cries
of teenage pleasure, one would always slip-out
at the most inappropriate time—
"What
are you two doing out there?!"
Mother
shouted from behind the open window."Nothing, Mom!" you shouted back
much too loud to be believable.
Damn, how we laughed at our own
inability to tell a credible lie.
I
wonder, did she ever figure it out?
rrw
12-3o-2oo6 (rewrites 11-13-14)
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