Channeling Audre Lorde Hour #6 9/2/2023
Stuck. In a rut.
I called for a muse
The gods sent Audre Lorde
World-weary and wise
If silence will not save me
then confusion will not salve me
3 PM – Warning Label Draft #1
If you’re reading this, I’d like you to be cautious because I’m still learning about the man I am.
I don’t love myself, but I wish I did.
Opinionated, I’ve been absent to my world,
too early, too late, – never just in time.
Someone shows me love and my fight or flight kicks in,
bear witness the lack of acceptance I hold for myself.
I am poor with a capital PO,
weight of a capitalistic society leaves me
bitching about how life isn’t fair.
Tender to the wrong touch,
nauseous over my own white savior complex
and how my best will never feel good enough.
I can make a decision when there’s a gun pointed at my face,
but never about food.
THE SOUNDS OF SILENCE (HOUR 6) PAMS
at the edge of the earth
where the universe stops
humming
and the hush
of the end of the earth
begins,
what is it
we will hear?
The end
of gravitational waves,
created
by two people,
or a collective, humming
at much lower
frequencies,
everywhere all at once?
The super binary
pulsars
of massive
black
holes,
the source
of gravitational waves
Without you
I’ve been on so many times.
You name it.
Theme parks, sporting events,
the occasional spartan battle.
But none of it’s quite the same without you.
We used to paint the town red & pull
all-nighters in the name of mankind.
For close to four years, the nights were
ours.
Now it all just feels so fruitless
without you
but I know we’ll be back someday;
it’s only a matter of space.
hour 6 – hell
It will be not pyrotechnic but arithmetic:
the final tally,
what you’ve done, what you’ve failed to do.
Peering over dispassionate columns of unregistered evils,
it’s God, Peter Singer, and a bottle of whiskey
making good use of heavy brass scales.
On one side, love – the other
a vast and colorless wasteland
of infinite regret.
Hour six
Turtles
It’s turtles all the way down,
They say,
Peering carefully over
The edge of the world,
Standing on the backs of each other,
Towering down into
The emptiness of space.
They plod along silently,
So smooth the world above
Is unlodged and undisturbed,
So that we can keep on living
On this flat disk,
Till we reach the very edge,
Hoping not to tumble over,
Waving at turtles as we go.
Bisbee Roadside Attraction
People gather in the parking lot
beside their rented automobiles,
staring past the pit’s edge, straining
to catch glimpses of the bottom.
Tourists pull over, slam
their vehicles into “park”,
and run towards the hole.
“That’s it!” one of them cries,
reaching into their purse or pocket
for a camera. The abyss starts wide,
then becomes steadily narrower,
each scoop towards the bottom
greedier than the last, like somebody
dug for extra bites of ice cream
until the tub ran empty,
and no one can lick it clean anymore.
When the copper was gone,
miners packed up and left town,
penniless, health shot forever,
but no one wants to remember that.
It doesn’t sell postcards, or
put money in merchants’ pockets.
Each night after the bars shut down,
patrons head someplace new
for an after-hours party.
Maybe they can extract one more drop
from an otherwise depleted evening.
Maybe they can stay above the pit,
long enough to avoid looking at the bottom.
hour 5
imagine earths’ edge
far off horizon
defined end
sharp corners, hard lines
a tipping point
what’s over the side?
all the other earth’s this one could’ve been
if this were a different world
different humans
different histories
different systems
different beliefs
different theories
different realities
different truths
different possibilities
tipping point made endless edge
made ongoing expanse
of what could have been
of what might come to be
Out of Focus
HOUR 6
(using the photo prompt…….having a harder time today…..but it will come
I have faith! But for now, another haiku!)
Confused where to go
Like this marathon poet
Our focus now blurred.
Hour #6: Flat Earth — So THAT’s Where I Put It!
Peek over the edge of the flat world. What do you see?
Angels keep their car keys at the ready.
Demons have their motorcycle helmets.
Giant packs of bubble gum, a mattress-sized deck of cards for Celestial Solitaire,
receipts for Buy-1 Get-1 Half Off in the Afterlife all gather dust under us.
Single socks and dry-erase markers lay next to bills and spare change.
If ever your angel or demon needs something, just peek over the edge of the World.
My darling Steve chimed in:
Maple syrup has run over the edges of our Flat Earth, just like it flows over flat pancakes.
Look closely, and huge rats are underneath, licking up all of the sweet gooeyness.
They’re fat and diabetic, so don’t worry about them chasing us.
Besides, they’ll probably start swimming in circles because pancakes need milk.