Day 29

[dr_con]

Some poets are best read
Con/Jur/d, 4/29/2021

Some poets are best read,
in smoke-filled bars and back rooms, now banned and highly discouraged --  on a rocky outcrop, overlooking sunrises and sunsets their sinking and rising crafted by shadowed mountains and dark valleys with secret bones -- others at the beach, sailboats and fishboats bobbing, bobbing, bobbing --- in electric blue arc-light, the only memorable features cement, and the taste of iron -- on the toilet, with a Buddha on a high shelf saying “Even here, even here.” -- the best, are those read on a dirt floor, near but not touching the brightly painted central pillar, with the smell of cigars, rum, and Florida Water creating a subtext, clearly underlying everything -- in the vast reaches of outerspace, “Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t breathe,” on this little blue ball spiraling through infinity -- before gates guarded, chained to the fence screaming “Not in my name, not in my name” -- coming down, every neuron tired from a night of overstimulation, curled in blankets scented with fall-leaves and wood smoke, saying “Wake me after the revolution” -- 

or simply and plainly read by you to me.

 

[Tinker]

Juris, There is something very familiar to me in reading this.  It felt at home in this piece.  

 ~~Judi

 

[dr_con]

Interestingly that is exactly the section of my insides this came from. The I know this poem, rather than the I wrote it will write this poem. Even when editing, it was correcting the lines towards familiarity, rather than changing lines... My autocorrect is definitely gonna have a day with me. Lines were written as limes 😂