Tag: davidmpitchford
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challenge poem 12
sometimes there’s a yearning. often. sometimesthe need hits too strong to submerge – you musthave a companion for your present debauch:morality does not figure in. Nojudgement -that is, condemnation, anyway –can touch the drunken, dancing sufi self.you dance and sing and no word is profane;you sing your song and dance life’s dance – profoundand sacred…
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Poem 7
Too much knowledge exists to be truly wisein one lifetime. how were we to know? truthis but the carcass, feathers the facts thattailor the bird . . . what evidence revealswe all too often disregard – we of thesentimental persuasion, and victimsof formative faiths in our hostage years.Too much of faith remains to be truly…
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Yearend Challenge
to write 100 poems by midnight 1 Jan 2024.
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art to optimism
ughf! dyspeptic morning and the whole dayyet to go. oh, but I took a vow ofoptimism: how am I to face thisin brightness, this overcast novembermorning with my belly aching and headfilled with allergy cobwebs, eyes itchywatering and thus painting the world drabwater color . . . and now, suddenly, I turnmy mind to matisse…
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Correspondent Love
break me out, she said. I will love you, sheswore. her letters always brief and to the point.halfway to indy from here, barrelingdown i-74 east, my first tireblew out, shreds of tire across the highwaylike feathers from a murdered crow. changingthe flat took an hour because my car trunkis full of books and . .…
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she
she was alone, smoking a slim cigaretteand drinking chardonnay at the bar:legs up to the sky, clouded gently bya short skirt of diaphanous design;this was back when one could smoke cigarettesin public places. she was glamorousdespite that and the seedy dive, sinatraplaying over tinny speakers behinda bar conspicuously out of style.her eyes enticed as much…
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Occult
mystery is a thing of feathers, flies awayon bat-wings, crawls into the earth through suspiciousburrowed holes, swims alongside sharks and within podsof dolphins, sings with angels’ voices, screeching onthe strings of demon fiddles and beats with drummingpercussion through the blood of all sentients. mysterythe lifeblood of knowledge and breath of wisdom, inhaledbrings curiosity to awaken…
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Down on Fifth
forever the beggar, king of no kingdombut the dusty lanes of nowhere, he smilesfor his dimes, a blessing for a dollar;at midday, or when whim strikes him, oronce the coins add up to a little something,he slips down to the huck’s on carpenterstreet for a magnum of malt (and a pintof brandy, E-n-J, on a…
Fringemonkey Scribbles 