Unholy Imaginings

Example 3.  Something about the orange peel scented sunlight ties me back into a single point of consciousness.  This first vivid remembrance of citrus-based time travel is in Florida.

---

Casique

frigid seawater
clings to my abdomen
buoys my small hands
rigid in anticipation

my stomach churns
orange juice, toast,

acrid adrenaline

stripping off fear
like a wetsuit

her gray bottlenose
touches my fingertips
smooth as a hardboiled egg
better than i dreamt it

Example 2.  Field notes of citrus-based modes of travel through the space-time-continnuum.

---

 

California

Time carves mountains into Yosemite.
Higher than the gracious California sky.

Reclining in clefts above the valley floor,
I eat oranges to restore my energy.

Cool juice runs down the insides of my wrists.
Seeping sweet through blue veins, climbing towards sunlight.

The ability to time-travel or teleport through the use of fruit is possible.  Let’s start with the most recent case.

---

 

Fresno Blues

blackout curtains
partially obscure
the hot april sun

a cold breeze
tart through a
third story
window

enhances the taste
of a fresh-peeled orange

i lean my head back
against the window screen

cleveland
spring has
a few
snows more

but fresno’s
growing
season
barely ends

you can park your car
and run through the groves

back towards the soft certain
warmth of ohio june

 

when people call themselves thorough

they say the same thing

i always make sure

to cross my eyes and ice my teas

Jelly the Alleycat must’ve killed that old gray Junco.

No blood (but that’s her style), just feathers from the initial surprise.

I let myself be baffled until L. found the skeleton behind the garage.

---

 

dirge for a fallen junco

sparrows and finches
search the grass
salvaging soft
under-feathers

sifting slate pinions
for snowy down
which laid aground
through a mild winter

the feathers
disappear
morphing one-by-one
into wild violets

in a cedar closet
deep inside pockets
there is space
unexplored
time forgot

i have not
worn this
jacket in
awhile
nor thrust
chilled april
fingers
into its
quilted
fascia

here lies
everything
believed
to be lost!

sleek encased
cosmetic tubes
and scraps of thought
long enfolded

excellence
is desire
to remain
beyond reproach

possibly
personal
convictions
drive you forward

but mostly
it is nice
to be left
the fuck alone

red-hot
cherry
velvet
drainpipes
cover
two
soft
fatal
stalks

now i
know why
they’re called
getaway sticks

My old neighbors were super cool and allowed me to walk around my yard in various stages of disheveled, emotional despair without commenting.  When the house was put up for sale, and my pup went to stay with my parents, their Shih-Tzu hung out with me.   Lucy is an angel.  She would show up when I needed her most and would let me carry her.  She calmed my heart.  Enough time has passed for me to thank her, to set the stage with an appropriate context.  This is For Lucy.

---

for lucy

dear poetry editor,

have you ever argued
on top of a school bus?

he says something hurtful
so you shout your truth back
a resonant display
of one word on delay

BULLSHIT! BULLSHIT! BULLSHIT!
lucy runs across the lawn
weaves around the wheels
pleading come back down

you descend, hold her paws
talk through work you
submitted for publication
8 months before a response!

blessed is the unknown
far from mundane truth
and new ways to hurt

poems attached for your consideration

PS – rejections are just e-mails now?
no fancy letterhead or anything?

I’ve been crazy busy since 3/13.   My main focus has been managing hardware and software vendors, so that my company’s employees can work from home to help stop the spread of COVID-19.

My routines are weird.  I’ve been slacking on transcribing the images and words of my subconscious.  I keep lying to myself and saying “I’ll remember in the morning.”   I sleep in.  I roll into my sleazy 70s den which serves as a home office.  I work. I am grateful to work! I do puzzles. I watch trash TV.  I bake.  I sleep.  I try my damndest to breathe, create, an make something meaningful.

If you are looking to be uplifted in a time of uncertainty, if you are an artist looking for a method to connect with other creators, if you want to smile: please check out MakeSomethingMeaningful.Org.

Chris Zielski, the amazing artist of Copperleaf Studios, has given the world a lovely virtual space for celebrating creativity in this weird time.

Make art and weird words.  Eat carbs.  Help others.  Make something meaningful!

I’ll have new poems posting weekly again, starting tomorrow!