how time never passes in the company of prostitutes

This is not me babbling

but a reincarnated Lama never is mistaken.

As for the prostitute sitting beside me in the car,

she may have been my mistress during the Civil War

where I was a war correspondent who anxiously tapped

out my recounts of death; of limbs flying by on a bed

of hyacinths like angels. Her dad

use to work in the coal mines

of West Virginia. So he got black lung and gave to

his surviving spouse OBAMACARE, and the half-paid-off-house

on the hill you had to climb till your knees bled just to enter the

front door.

In her other life, the one she dreams of often,

men loved her as she bent over in the okra fields

pulling weeds by hand, and the lights of stars

would shine clearer

if you didn't have to imagine it between prayers.

I've driven past the naked scarecrows where surviving ravens

bow in the direction of fast talk. It is noon

and the coal miners daughter is now naked.

and so am i.

Reviews

[Patrick]

astonishing piece of writing. speechless.

[h d e rushin]

thank you dearest Patrick for your kind words.....dana

[Ken Simm.]

This surpasses. This is as close to classic as it can get.
I think it is the stories that catch me first in your work. The lines of thought and memory that fade in and out of lives and conciousness.
Then the times that add texture to the shape and flow. This is as a superb concoction of form and story as I have ever seen. Even from you and that is saying something about the master.

[h d e rushin]

I had to walk away for a few weeks my friend..My mind was getting clogged with epigrammatic expressions and comparisons..I still write every day, i just put them in my journal..I need to do some serious catching up.
thank you my dear friend for those kind remarks...dana

[alan peter kelly]

Time does not pass for them...
just too quickly
for me ;)

(Not really)

[h d e rushin]

we are both growing old alan peter Kelly....both of us, at once...thanks for those kind remarks....dana

[alan peter kelly]

Most welcome Dana. Love your work.

[emmajoy]

'In her other life, the one she dreams of often,
men loved her as she bent over,,, '

Surely, 'we' have to be somewhere, some time.

Seems wherever one is, whoever one's with, the mind thrusts history into the mind.. pictures abound, perhaps from warped memories or fond.

Whether you can ride or not, you seem to jump on the back of a creature who charges into a place which may or not allow us to visit with you... meantime, you lure with all colours and words beckoning. Thank goodness!

[h d e rushin]

thank you beloved......I've been lost for a few weeks it seems.....working on my thoughts... love you always...dana

[emmajoy]

Dana, am often lost! Especially at the moment. But then, sometimes you know, tis the right place to be. When life is good and right as it can be, fine.. but between times.. we need to be a little bewildered in order to climb up and over wherever.. or something. It's my way of dealing with feeling lost.. don't lay blame anywhere, just look at the clouds! :)

[h d e rushin]

thank you my love....

[emmajoy]

My invoice is on the way :)

[kmartell]

Good narrative with images ...dreams of working in Okra fields, of naked scarecrows and dreams...pulling weeds by the light of stars evokes character of this poem. great.

[h d e rushin]

so very glad to see you're still here....thank you my friend...dana

[Emily B]

those other lifetimes haunt us in odd moments, I remember several of them

[h d e rushin]

the past is only the past when we overtake it..love you Ms Emily/ dana

[Emily B]

I love you too

[apennylate]

This was raw as hell... Channeling of Tech N9ne, almost, haha... Between ravens and Obama... I hope I can stay naked and clear of drama... Sickly penned...

[h d e rushin]

i am working with shapes and colors...like a painter, perhaps, one who paints the sides of houses....lol.
thank you dearest Silente....dana

[apennylate]

You are a master craftsman with that which you work with... I consider my mind a house, paint the side of it all you want with the vivid words that imbue your paintbrush...

[h d e rushin]

thank you Silente...

[Lydia Shutter]

My goodness, this one is like watching a movie, Dana. The imagery is so precise, so vivid! Naked....because she has to be, but is anyone really seeing her? No, only your words see the history, the hopes and dreams. Intense and incredible write! Lydi**

[h d e rushin]

happy birthday dearest.....enjoy, for you are both loved and appreciated........thank you ....dana

[Lydia Shutter]

Thank you so much, sweet Dana.

[redzone]

Dana, as I am newer to your writing, I am amazed (and I am sure even those who know your writing are as well) at the way your images just kind of fall or flow on the page seemingly from nowhere... this of course is not true, they come from a poets mind, sharply written... but I am amazed at how what on the surface seems to be disjointed bits of images actually make sense when seen more as a whole rather than just the part... here is a woman, who because of social standing and history has been forced t do what she must to survive and even this is being taken away... or so it reads to me...

Dana, did you mean "oven" or "over" in the line: " men loved her as she bent in the okra fields...

Dana, I think the more I read of your poetry, the better I come to appreciate your images and metaphors.... and that last line... perfect...

redzone

[h d e rushin]

thank you dearest for your kind words and for stopping by to visit me......I made that correction..and thanks for seeing what I didn't//good morning....dana