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Sunday, April 24, 2011

National Poetry Month April 2011 6-8/30

Pedestrian

Walking,

walking down,

down streets,

cross streets across

town walking through

crisp mist wet Spring mix

through corner crowds

of cardigan toting

smoking privileged and

past solitary souls with

cardboard pleas for

work or cash…

Walking under tall

white flowered trees—

Japanese blossoms on

New York April streets—

walking amidst the red and

yellow tulips and the withered

heads of earlier buds, gone already,

walking past cracks in concrete

where Earth’s dirt breathes

a little, buried alive,

Walking full of our selves, our sorrows

our joys, carrying us past these

silent statements with their restless

still branches, rocking in the breeze,

walking towards them for comfort

and relief.

Walking away blessed

to be sentient and walking,

flexing muscles of decisive step past

chained bushes, and boxed petunias,

happy to be not only not plant but

to be also human .

Walking fast past news stands with

endless headlines always of war.

6/30


AGOTT To Go

A Gathering of the Tribes

a tributing to the times

a smeldering of the vibes

a scorning and a scoffing of the lies

a culturing of the civil ties

a massing to the line of one and many

a rarefying to the feat of daily

Drone drone drone Yawn yawn yawn

Kick ass cohort of contiguous creation

a meandering mixing merging of minds

an endless prosaic rhyme

a shortcut to the long road…

a drop in from the hue and cry

a station in the wilderness of why

a wrinkle, yes, in time

A Gathering of the Tribes

7/30

Dear Steve Cannon I love you madly

Steve’s on the couch

Its another day of

What has come our way

And another moment to say

What we plan to reply in word and song

And rhyme and such

Steve’s on the couch

Table full of books

Office full of interns

Radio on NPR too loud

Smoke and such. Spirits.

Firing up with righteous rage

And slowly paddling dream scapes

To say this is that is to be able to laugh.

Steve’s on the couch--

Not now, he’s at the piano

It’s the old tunes

We sing along the

Timeless melodies

On third street, second floor, like it’s the first time around.

Steve’s on the phone:

“I’ll tell you what I need

As I can see it

And I am blind you know

50 thousand dollars and this house

forget about the view.

I see so much with my eyes closed.

And get me some shrimp lo mein.”

8/30

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