discarded

February 2, 2012

I just tripped upon a folder on my computer of some relatively recent poetry of mine.  Concurrently, I had an artistic inspiration/crazy idea to go take some pictures of alley garbage the other day.  So I traipsed around Venice for the better part of two days finding and photographing some cool stuff in the alleys and streets.  I’ve now got a veritable collection brewing….which I believe I shall label “Discarded.” There’s something resonant to me about what we let go- about the comings and goings of things.  About beginnings and endings.  There is beauty in the trash, I believe- there are things to be gleaned.  I’m having fun with these photos.

So, Dear Reader, I thought to share these two burgeoning collections here – in conjunction with each other.  Please enjoy this small assemblage of Discarded Items alongside some Recently Unearthed Streams of Words.  I think they somehow compliment each other.

 

 

LOOK

Look

Look at that

A spot of blood

Red

Blood

A spot of scarlet so

Balanced

Neatly round and buoyant on my cheek

That there is blood

That streak

• - the opposite of thin –

The antithesis of apathy

Is breathing real

That is

Life

 

BETWEEN THE IN BETWEENS

 

one foot in either world

worlds of wonder grace and manmade concrete

detritus

all of us soul swimming through the quicksand of

everyday air

one foot in either world

that of plain and unadorned real nature

unsaccharined lines and dry weary bits of skin that peal

peel slowly off bit by bit over

footsteps plain down the meadows of rolling rolling wheat time

here we all stand and run in perfect harmony with the

roiling firebursts – eons of synapses we fire and

are fired toward the end of ragged endless space

one foot in either world or is it nine or ten

and the centipede chameleon reminds us who we are

 

ODE TO EMILY DICKINSON

There is another sky.

Indeed, my friend- where you and I- for each ecstatic instant pay only fractions of farthings in anguish.

There is another sky.

Indeed, my friend, where you and I- for each keen and quivering moment at least hold on together.

 

 

In communion with our brethren.

Hold fast, maintain, withstand the sharp pittances

And spend the morning light on each other.

 

 

SEAT OF JOY

 

 

Come sit here- sit down in this chair.

Where you can let down your hair and breathe your outside in and your inside out and know that here in this Seat, you will never be unsafe.  You will never be upended.

And when you are upended you will remember that this was the way you always wanted to be anyway.  Upended in your Seat of Joy. Landed smack upon your head.

Crying your eyes out from the laughing.