The Poetry Marathon

metaphor and eloquence evade

as they have all damn day

eventide prepares to arrive and between a door to the street and my daughter in the driver’s seat, though we roll forward,

– – – all i feel is the belt,  tight across me

the rock faces mine

the rock face is mined

the rock’s face …and mind

the rock face is mine

the light plays across the rock face and mind

and mine

…and mine

rain falls inciting me to wonder if water is what washes away the watermelon juice dripping down the chins of the offspring

a green that grows more vivid as the sky greys emerges

thunder crackles

although cackling would be a morr accurate description

escaping from the mouths of clouds like faces

we both are & aren’t

the sum(s) of our parts

collectively & respectively

abject, object and objected to

subjected & subject

& let’s not forget  predicate

whether excepted or accepted, in no equation is there fair representation

how many times do U go into X

& Y?

what is the value of X taken away from U

& Y?

less than

or equal to?

is the parenthetical calculated before what is contained within brackets?

i dont know how to solve for the unknown

i’m only familiar with imaginary numbers & how to punctuate the word

problem

she tires of being settled into

settled for

like the banks on which they’ve settled in for fishing expeditions

from which she returns sodden and, the others,

sated

feeling nothing but numbness

even filled to the brim with the catch

for which each cast,

or sometimes dragged, their respective nets

accusations of introspection plague him feeling he lacks discipline he performs a search within

searches the eyes of his reflection

trying to see what others see in him

unable to hold his own gaze

permitted to seep

into the wound, the saline

stings; afterwards, the

bleeding ceases, breath released

– it is a sigh of relief

element and force, it erodes earth and stone – smoothing what is sharp

carving out depths over distances and lengths of time measurable but, perhaps, not intended to be fully

comprehensible

if instrumental to life, the creation thereof, the shaping of other elements so why, then, has it not helped to round out her edges

still jagged – no matter the amount of time she’s spent allowing it to wash over her,

abrasive; sure, she’s weather worn from the storms she’s withstood but, even when she’s firmly grounded, she remains

unchanged

by the tide

the muse takes the form

of chandelier-shaped seed pod

tumbling to the ground

follicles of once

mighty dandelions’ manes

scatter in the breeze