writing about the last past

[revolutionrabbit]

i don't see like i'm writing about the past
i see it as one enormous vast opening
that is on going, i could not then
memorize all the poetry that i have
read and all the stuff i have written
it's all one big poem giving birth
to billions and zillions of star poems
time seems to expand and spin like a top
a child's toy that once was the center
of the universe, a poet spins too
in the middle of a poem that tells a story
so many stories have been silenced
and then found some shard of memory
in the mirror world whirling deep
in a forest or a city, in a leaf or a feather
a trinket carried around like a tiny heart
my life was a fragment i carried too,

i carried pieces of poetry inside me
like the chunks of reason we question
how we became to be who we are
in the seem of things, in the chance of
eternity, happen to find words that say
nothing or perhaps something that twists
and turns in the shadows of language
until it grabs some flying saucer of
appearance like a sliver of light
and a flower she once held to her
cheek and the mystery goes around her
like the poem that i was always writing about
her inside my darkness inside that light of her

[judih]

bravo, revolutionrabbit

truly a beautiful concoction of words uttered in openness

[revolutionrabbit]

the last four lines, looking

the poem i'm really looking for

it once was like an adventure
think i just got confused on the internet.
i don't know how truly beautiful, i can
concoct, i know.

except i wrote the novel on the computer.

try to be honest, but poetry needs some jazz
not just about jazz talk, about seeing things
that have some inner light, and some music.

maybe a child's toy? a keep sake? meditate?
life in all its amazing verity, just writing to keep
writing? to keep it going? looking for the jazz
in a few well chosen words, a poem maybe.

peace and pome judih

[joel]

...my life was a fragment i carried too
...
i carried pieces of poetry inside me
like the chunks of reason we question
...
in the seem of things...

These flow nicely, like thick water--thick with life, not oil slicks (but still shiny).

[hester_prynne]

Really dig this one...
seems straight from the heart's observation.
You have a gift for observation rabbit.
H