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Click hereWhen I sing for my Supper, you skip to Dessert
When I heard how you copied the Persian poet,
I copied you.
When I copied you
I developed a slow leak
in my passenger's side.
We coasted along the rumble strip
selling autographs and lemon confections.
When I ran out of wares
I melted the sand into glass
sun spark prisms pot of gold.
When I cashed in the gold,
I bought back my voice
off the last barrow in a Persian market.
When I found my voice I sang out
"Of Jewels and Horses!"
"For God, Mammon and Country!"
"From Barnes and Noble!"
And the merchant replied
When I this, I that.
When I this, I that
and I told him a three time poet laureate
from the New World wanted to say hello,
thanks for all the lemon bars
carbonated fruit punch, tea.
I enjoyed the construction of this and, as ever, the voice.
I enjoy the hell out of writing where the journey is more important than the destination. This is one hell of a journey. Makes you want to scream 'From Barnes and Noble'
ty,BD
I've come back to this poem several times over the last few days. It's sinking in, now. :) Not sure what's sinking in, but I'm seeing some images. I really hate to like a poem and not be sure why. Darn, what a difficult poem to comment on.
in Xanadu you bought me dates
the black abada type
that grow only in dry creek beds
with the promise of winter water
crashing down in sudden floods
to a land thankful for the monsoon passion
as for all the rest, the hot tea and cardomom
I was always up for something new
my problem was that I could not skate
and i looked ridiculous in pink leg warmers