Thursday, 29 June 2017

Poems Scribbled in a Well-Graffitied Booth at Bon's

At our very cheap brunch at Bon's Restaurant today, niece Flora Jo Zenthoefer and I wrote four short poems together, taking turns line by line. Here they are, fresh and unedited, for the joy of writing (and for the joy of playing):


a shadowed pen and darkling sink                               (C)
a dip and then a pause to think                                   (F)
what words convey the thing I glimpse                        (C)
beyond the hayfields it limps                                      (F)



grinning moon disappears                                           (F)
sleight of face                                                            (C)
a starless spot, no other trace                                     (F)
but here on earth its absence slowly whelms               (C)
a holesome spot in my heart realm                              (F)



look! the spindle spins and thread unravels so              (C)
that a garment fine can be made                                 (F)
of anti-thread in anti-time with aunties all around       (C)
the weaver stops for a sip of Antarctica                       (F)
and there along its rim: an ant                                    (C)



a red plague dances                                                     (F)
on these shattered bones                                             (C)
a soft smile above blood-stained teeth                         (F)
but we—we who remain—determine not to fall             (C)
keep time and manage to keep step
            ignoring cuts from the jagged dance floor         (F)
and dance we past all plague and precipice                  (C)

Image Credits:

The Walls at Bon’s,
Bon's Off Broadway,

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