bodhisattva

        

I knew a boy who

                      t r i p p e d

on paint lines

like you & me at midnight,

like speed bumps

& strawberry fields

 

With his legs tucked into overalls

& folded neatly underneath him,

he would sit on the asphalt

trembling soliloquies

& debate

in his head

whether or not

all great poets

are gay. I loved the way

he’d pull on his hair

& lose sight of reality

 

Yes he was pretty,

much like our dreams

of a perfect future & peace,

when he’d lean on lampposts (while blinking

at me through those dilated pupils)

and speak: you are the air that I breathe.

 

Well he dreamed

screamed seemed like the California sunshine

blue eyes grinning wet

with epiphanies & young karma in his actions

he had looked up at the clouds, smiling

like only a dreamer can & thanked Allah

& whoever else is up there

that Zen was so easy to spell

 

He then cupped my chin in hands

stained with Ginsberg

whispered, darling, they won’t ever understand

& turned back the way he’d come,

careful not to step

on the sidewalk

cr/ack/s

Reviews

[theludus]

I like this too. I think it's a nice mix of oddball, with romantic notions and the heaping of reality. It's put together really nicely, so that I was able to enjoy it on many levels as it unfolded. Your use of rhyme that connected words seemed to really come to the fore then and so you can count me among the impressed.

Vividly interesting and with some lovely offshoots of thought.

[Kris]

I really like this piece. This is probably the best thing I've read on this website so far. It's a bit hard to try and critique something you like, but if I could make a suggestion it would be to change two things. The first would be where you say t r i p p e d instead of tripped and where you say cr/ack/s instead of cracks. Your poem is good enough to the point where things like that detract rather than enhance. Anyway, kudos. Keep up this kind of writing.

Cheers.

[deactivated account. pl..]

Wow.
I have been looking and searching, and looking, and searching for something I liked.
And this is it. This is incredible.
I can't even begin to wrap my head around how to say how much I love this poem.
I love:

he would sit on the asphalt

trembling soliloquies

& debate

in his head

whether or not

all great poets

are gay. I loved the way

he'd pull on his hair

& lose sight of reality"

and "Well he dreamed

screamed seemed like the California sunshine

blue eyes grinning wet"

I love the way you start this piece, and the way you end it.
This is really exceptional work. Really spectacular.