sulphate & curiousity…

iron-heart ballads in new places

i’m getting there; even if nothing works.
no matter the current state
of luck or dealings with merciful
idealism, we’re repeating the fantastic.

verification of rapture instead of indemnity;
calls for simple, plain elucidation of
terms, relaxed phantasmagoria,
brontosaurus footstep-sized hunks of truth
held out for inspection whenever
need arises.

rules were built up over the years
to avoid that very thing;
instead errata transfixed participants,
a need for calm subterfuge,
additions of differentiated truth,
which isn’t really truth,
made for intense moments of reflection.

lots of semantic games, spread
over a period of weeks,
months,
maybe years, maybe not.

easier isn’t always easier,
even with patterns already traced out
by friends, family, neighbors,
whomever and whatever.

conversations & introduction
made to run easy; it doesn’t work
like the instructions imply.

fair or not, no brontosaurus-truth
for me and you, for reasons
hardly passing, partially lost,
that next step is this way,
over here.

even if there can’t be
late nights with steaming coffee
and whipped cream,
parked behind the market
waiting to drink coffee and kiss;
something will no doubt
take its place as such.

long past “what do you want to do
when you grow up?”
(for me it was always if.)

what’s the equivalent
to cutting class and gettin’ drunk,
driving around ’cause
there’s no place to go?

finally fading; wet coffee tongue
ain’t gonna be the answer
you give; i know that
(even if i don’t like it.)

instead, what is it,
and where
should i go to find out the rest?
————————————–
Inspired by that night a long long time ago parked in my piece of shit car with a girl, two cups of coffee, and two packs of cigarettes. Just one of those nights growing up where you learn one of those really important lessons with the motor running. Dedicated to anyone confused by recent events yet still hoping for a good outcome. Another night still going at 4 a.m. Oh well.

crb.

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2 Responses to “sulphate & curiousity…”

  1. 🙂 After your comment, I had to come check out your site. I think the right answer is what you’ve done – create your own blog and invite readers to comment and discuss. It would be enjoyable to meet other poetry bloggers in person… if you’re ever in Vermont.

    Reading your poem… I can’t get past the word Brontosaurus. How old are you? I would guess you’re in your 40’s or older – cause every 7 year old knows that Brontosaurus’s are no longer called that – they’re called an Apatosaurus. Have you ever experienced the withering wrath of a seven year old paleontologist?

    You’ve been warned.

    • Thanks for the compliments, much appreciated. Actually, not yet in my 40’s, but another decade will have me comfortably there. Good to note that brontosaurus is now Apatosaurus, I feel like I should know that, but don’t. I should head over to the Smithsonian and do the dino-tour…it’s been a long time. But yeah, more on topic, I do basically what you’ve described, but it is hard to find poets and not the heart’s and flowers hallmark set of which there are a disturbing amount.

      I was born in Boston, so Vermont is not too far out from my travels. Are you a Sox fan? When I’m not writing and reading, I’m usually watching the Sox (or at the very minimum listening.) In fact, just got back from Ft. Myers to watch spring training. Apologies if you aren’t a baseball fan, just thought I’d ask.

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