a fairytale end.

a fairytale end.

A Poem by h d e rushin

 

 

 

I won't be amazed if it started raining money

because that's what I prayed for.

Selfdevotedness.

 

The gray skies will open up and expressionless

ten dollar bills should start falling any day now.

Don't be alarmed.

 

Gasoline and bread with those little flakes of fiber

and seeds will be free. And the oil that holds my hair

in place, let's not forget, and the coffee and

cigarettes and stockings and whiskey and

 

baby asprins and Febreeze to make it all smell

good blindfolded. Prayer means that you have

faith in, but little control over, outcomes. Like

 

your home team winning or growing another leg

back from the whale that ate it off, or that the

spider left and left you alone and didn't crawl on

your scarf and you really didn't freak out, and I didn't

laugh until the evening came with our eyes closing ,

yet still snickering. Or that the poems

 

we wrote last Friday, since its Friday again, have

been concluded with their accompanied sidereal

relationships to stars or smaller things in the air

that can't really matter since you have to wait for daytime

until they leave/ powerless

 

like lint or ivory carved into silly little men in hats

with handcarts. Or me. And I'll purchase all the things

I don't need and can't use like a boat with no way to

get it to the sea, or a giant house for a giant. Or

a million Skittles, not a million bags, just a million

 

individuals, the blue ones that make my eyelids into

italics and underscore this bloodshot divorce' looking

for happiness in rainbows or fresh water ponds like the others

driven there by lexeme or beans you throw out of windows

that grow thru the heavens.

 

Because magic comes in handy

and giants always smell the blood of Englishmen

and those flakes of fiber in my bread was just

ground up bones in the first place.

Fe Fi is just normalization, a transformative

variable -

 

Today i'm practicing air. I would practice ocean

but I can't swim, unless you call hysteria swimming.

 

I don't/

© 2013 h d e rushin


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A simpler diction than what I'm used to from you, more accessible, I think. Obviously, there's some good societal commentary in here, the irony of the flakes in wheat bread, the expressionless ten dollars bills (upsetting, when you really think about it) and that priceless little allusion to Febreze commercials. Unexpected, in that these seem to be more direct observation of the world around you and the mindset you're in. A small but interesting point of discussion you've brought up that I'd like to embellish on: what if Ahab's leg had grown back? The entire narrative would change, because why would he still be chasing that white whale now? More importantly, what if miracles could happen to us without us noticing? If we get everything we want, does it guarantee that we will be satisfied? Maybe not, but we trust that with faith comes an inevitable happiness anyway. But let me know if I've just gone astray, and this wasn't what you were trying to show me.

I like how the last two stanzas here have a sort of modernist flair-- taking the realistic, adding a touch of magic to it and still being disappointed ultimately.

Every day that I read your poetry, the edges of all the words seem to slide away from me. But the more I try to expand, the more I just love it to bits.

Is there any particular meter you're going for?

Posted 11 Years Ago


What a complete airing of thoughts. At times I snickered, and at others, felt concern.

Posted 11 Years Ago



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Added on February 23, 2013
Last Updated on February 23, 2013

Author

h d e rushin
h d e rushin

detroit, MI



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black american poet living in detroit. more..

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A Poem by h d e rushin