must

I must admit,

there's a part of me,

a subset of the part that can't get his foot

in a size 11 shoe,

that would rather a blue sky,

Not a technophobia complex device

of rays and spots

but the mountain folds of strata,

that the universe, turned by a thumb and index finger,

are these warped threads

of oft  chafing ginger on the

first night.

How petrichor, utterly confounded smell

and ancient breath. How a ballet dancer or

a small child finds a sea shell and calls it a home.

Imagines a cupboard against a teasel fence;

chairs, meals, mostly uncooked.

sweaters flung like a mad scientist knows

good Chopin from his finger exercises. It's

mostly an attest of dreams

whose outcomes clap of torture

(I learned in middle school)

along with having a lopsided head,

that Thyestean unwittingly ate the flesh

of his children. Lou Rawls, me and

Archibald Duncan prepares

his warring fleets, against the backdrop

of pansies,

for action.

Lives are mostly overly wasteful. Only a few write poems.

Far less read it.

Only a few are actually struck by lightning. The others

run in that dwarahat transverse

for the shelter of witticism.

And as the clouds, charged again with electricity,

called that abhorrent thunder,

love.

Reviews

[ANTO]

"Only a few are actually struck by lightning. The others
run in that dwarahat transverse
for the shelter of witticism." - Im guilty as charged !
I 'must' say though - I enjoyed flicking through this copy of 'DANA' magazine and some things stuck other went over my head but its one I would return to for a decent read. thanks for sharing

[ANTO]

Only a few are actually struck by lightning. The others
run in that dwarahat transverse
for the shelter of witticism.

[Lizardo]

The last stana has so much wisdom in it.. wow... this is really a beautiful poem..
This is really a fine work

[Chuba kichu]

Love the way you coonect every line and i love Narrative poems

[Jamie]

Such a complex piece and a pleasure to read!

[W.k.kortas]

This is, ostensibly, a rather complex piece, with as many "folds of strata" as the mountain in the second stanza, and certainly there is a broad sweep of images, from Thyestes to Chopin to Lou Rawls (as an aside, it's unfair to dismiss Rawls as "supper-club soul"; man could sing). Still, the final two stanzas serve as the moral of the story (but beautifully written, no simple Brothers-Grimm-beating-us-about-the-head-and-shoulders-with-the-meaning ending) and the simple final one-word stanza summation. Wonderful stuff, absolute top of the mark.

[emmajoy]

Am laughing with the joy of reading real words.. emotion framed, mind open and flying in the wind of both reason and imagination! To quote dear Sami K...'wow'!

Such insights, such meandering, dana, here and there, tasting a little of this, a little of that.. a peep, a stare, a touch, an inhalation of.. life.. and more

' How a ballet dancer or .. a small child finds a sea shell and calls it a home. .. Imagines a cupboard against a teasel fence; .. chairs, meals, mostly uncooked. .. ' How full of magic that is..

[jacob erin-cilberto]

more should be struck by lightning, but we are too scared to move forward, especially when life storms...

and such truth...few write poems and far less read them...that seashell is a home with the free sounds of the ocean...the breath of it...but many never get to experience the real thing...

only in imagination...

jacob

[Matching Socks]

What a journey Dana, to end with the calling of that thunder...
It's love that shakes us, for better or worse. Enjoyed the read.
Hope you had a nice holiday.