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Click hereBob Dylan and Middle English
reign on this love supreme.
Poetry slides down walls,
rolls in cookpots.
Words simmer, bubble
strophes, stanzas.
We harmonize in cantos.
I look at my knee,
pick up a scabbed rhyme
dropped from my stony past,
and press on another phrase.
He brings me music.
He brings me books.
Kerouac speaks in his voice,
and Dharma is lionized
twixt silly smiles,
mouthing metaphors,
understanding.
We're two wacked out intellectuals,
he laughs, then reads
from some medieval text.
I feel lazy like a sunflower,
swayed and dark eyed,
lifted out of the storm,
brightened in poetry grown live
with arms, legs, shaped
in fingers holding my hands
to the bristly texture
of his sweet face.
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 37,500 poems.
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Is anyone supposed to have this much fun? What a lucky boppy girl you are Ange! LOL Thanks!
Kerouac is fine by me
: )
Sounds like the beat/jazz life style
enjoy it
flow with it
and "follow your bliss " as Joseph Campbell says
it will make you happy
and give us this marvelous poetry to read
In a very short time I have come to look forward to greeting your poems!
Lines I like:
"I feel lazy like a sunflower,
swayed and dark eyed,
lifted out of the storm,
brightened in poetry grown live
with arms, legs, shaped
in fingers holding my hands
to the bristly texture
of his sweet face."
One comment: I like my poetry crisp and freshly picked, not potboiled gruel nor spiceless pottage.
the sweet life of the Dharma bums. It must be something incredible to share so much and the love of writing too. I am reminded of one of the sexiest movies scenes I have ever watched, from Shakespeare in love, his actor (Gwyneth Paltrow) and he are making love, with her reading his lines. Talk about a turn on. A beautiful poem about something very, very special.
jim : )