dr_con Posted May 21, 2009 Share Posted May 21, 2009 First Response Poets are biographical cannibals sometimes savage and glutinous lips smacking gristle awash in meat juice or a connoisseur's precision marrow on toast, the bones of Ortolan Bunting, delicious cracking of exquisite sins- the best, of course have humble origins, a black bread tomato sandwich, maybe a slice of goat cheese, the gastronomy of wet and seasonal herbs growing along this park on my way to the store, mouth open I am huffing great gulps of green working on this smell of soil as both life and death a metaphor of living awake and buried asleep, when With a great Crash Motorcycle and Car briefly joined, pulls a crowd telling the rider to lie still cell phones calling 911 I reflect on my not doing not sure what I can add unlike my Father not knowing what to do with me after the burning stump incident and a life of scars, becoming a volunteer ambulance driver, later the local president, always at the ready to intervene, but as a poet I just observe and digest Past cops, and firetrucks homeless grifters taunting the crowd with the innocent excitement of children, voluntary interviews, of First Responders and a gradual dispersion, the rider stripped of his helmet and jacket, allowed to stand the driver, tense and nervous allowed in They hug without pretense, grateful to be alive and part of this fine dinner. Quote thegateless.org Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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