explanation

 

 

 

sometimes our dreams relive the misery of heartbreak.

but if you're lucky enough to be a poet,

even one on weekends, you can glorify the

night and waif past the antiretroviral pills

for rheumatism, naming the sheets clouds,

the heardboard shores.

don't you just hate em?

 

and although egoistical,

they will think that their 'something' being said

is a thing being listened to

and that there is such a thing as

a good bird or bad skies. and they

are so honest to think that the

concept of the poetic, is in fact, poetic

 

and of kisses of any kind, even those shared

with another person; that dreams can break

away from their mooring like a crazy boat.

That if you rise to spin around quickly

and then sit down, you can see the

witchcraft of sentimentality or the

first three gospels of devotion.

 

and because they parented imagination,                        those poets,

romantic beaches without oil soaked

birds are just Gauguin paintings

pretending polynesia. and whatever

flower you can find, where the small

compartments of petiole and stipe

rest in the vase of dream colors,

love fawns pollen as the

talc of synesthesia.

 

and because the poet can believe

that each new morning, whatever you dream,

is a fresh morning, then time

and great patience is just

Emily Burns spelled backwards

and then forwards

and then backwards again,

 

and then forward.

 

 

Reviews

[Emily B]

imagine grumpy Em, stuffy nose and red cheeks and no make up, and little sleep, finding her name in a poem as amazing as this on a day like today, i may fly from sheer delight

and, oh, i wish for patience, someday, maybe . . .

oh, dana, you're an angel

[The Analog Kid]

This is not the first time your name has shown up in other people's writing:)

[Emily B]

I know, and I have this idea, what if we, as a collective, go through our writings and share back what has been inspired. If everyone sent me the works with my name that I inspired. I could publish that and put it on my shelf for dark days. What an amazing gift that would be!

[The Analog Kid]

Yes! I probably have a few, but your name isn't actually in them:)

[Emily B]

it wouldn't have to be. There are poems that don't have a name in them, but I know who I was talking to when it got written. I remember who was in my thoughts. I just have to sort them out and send them along.

think about it, a mirror, a many-faceted image of ourselves that we can take out and re-visit as often as we want to

[The Analog Kid]

:)I doubt if I inspired anyone on here though...lol

[Poetic Beauty]

Poets as well as artist are a breed of all our own. We feel these emotions and create a past that dances in the pages of the present. We dance among the planets and sing sonnets gliding across the stars. We use words and phrases in many different ways and capture emotions so deep that others feel it simply by reading our words. This poem talks about so many different sensations, emotions and thoughts.

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlande..]

I love the dichotomies going on here..it's just gotten super loud in my house and I'm about to have a heart attack, if I stay, so I will return to this; thank you for this; this is amazing and I've managed to read it a time and a half before it got horrendous at home..it's all in my head, though :)

[Corset]

Emily rocks, no if's, and's, or butt's about it. She is the epitome of patience. I love Em, you could not go wrong there, she's practically a saint. Beautiful tribute.

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

emily nursed me back to emotional health last night when I needed it most :)

[Emily B]

ah, John, you've done the same for me many times

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

I guess you're right :)