A taxi has its blinker on, and the car behind it too.
The taxi is black and white. The car is black. I am still sad and wishing it were otherwise. A tiny child toddles next to its adult. Neon jacket girl with gym bag. Maybe tomorrow I will get up earlier and smell life in the morning air. And drink some coffee and get things done. If I could write my insides to the outside... If I could spill my sorrow to the street, soaked up by pavement porous as my fingertips... I'll try again tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I'll be well. (c) mbscarpa 2016 Rainy day experiment. It's just the first verse, but I am disproportionally proud; it has taken me 8+ years teach myself guitar, and to sing harmony. SPECTACLES If you'd let me, how I would have loved you, clumsy Grace: unearthly force flying through; air like the Father. Of the universe, you could have been. I've seen your head scrape heaven but it didn't. Fool me, brother. Spread my insides. Like jam upon my skin: the spectacle of your unworthiness. The spectacle of your unworthiness spread my insides like jam upon my skin, but it didn't fool me brother; I've seen your head scrape heaven. You could have been like the father of the universe: flying through air-- unearthly force, clumsy grace. How I would have loved you if you'd let me. ©mbscarpa2014 Form: lines in second half of the poem are identical to the first, but in reverse. Punctuation and capitalization can be changed.
another from an old notebook... WAITING ROOM They are calling names and I wonder should I check my wristband to see if they are calling me? (c)mbscarpa 2014
Going through old notebooks, I found this poem (written in a poetry workshop, circa 2010). I had forgotten it entirely, and wasn't even sure I was the author until I found the rough draft. Belonging They need this weight, their bodies, their problems their daily lives, their loneliness. change miss realize regain [thighs] [nearly] work. Some keep pets and lavish feelings of growing old being overcome their loneliness. shallow breathing improper body wrong weight faulty habits. Sex freedom is always adjusted and restored to controversy. (c)mbscarpa 2014 -----------------------------
Prompt: take two pages from an old book, fold them in half the tall way, tape them together, and make an erasure poem. When you have grown your feet back into earth, trunk fat with rings of imperfections; When you have traded suppleness for strength, and winds, which bowed you once, now hold no sway; Come to me then. I have spent years of trying-to-forget-you learning to hold my eyes open in the sun. At twenty-two watched fireworks on the Seine, wide-eyed, smokey skies ablaze. Our boat docked too near, debris and ash rained down. I stood blinking for my sight. If I could squeeze them tightly shut... ! But not to miss a moment of the finger-painted sky was worth the waves of water washing shrapnel from my eyes. (c) 2014 mbscarpa
You have made me into a baby again: Birthed a creature whose insides spill out on a slide, to be studied under metallic scrutiny. All this chafing, will it turn to pearls or ulcers? Spitting up snakes like some Greek fated in Hades, serpents catch in my throat, transmogrified; I am vomiting grocery-store wrapped up daisies. ©mbscarpa2014
Famous Flower of Manhattan
by The Avett Brothers Happy melancholy Tuesday, folks! |
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March 2016
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