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5 & 50

draw a picture of

thoughts

emotions

changes

life

prolly the first time,

just remember, you can never really erase

 

make sure there is a

strip of blue up top

–tempura blue–

and a greening, yellow sun on top of that

(shades of Van No)

and maybe a temporally questionable moon opposite

(and a patch of stars if you’re lucky)

and leave a big white space

between blue & bottom
 
 
 
 

a bottom spiked w grass

(spikes that are to scale monocots the size of palms)

–since it’s in the white space

life is written

in big looping careful script

–sans emoji–

script that runs slanted, and gets

cramped when you

realize

life is shown

(not told)

and you’ve run out of

space-time realizing this

–and have yet so much to say–
 
 
unexpressed
 
 
undepicted
 
 
(stick figures looking for a bumper)

that the too big ladybug atop the spikes below, and now so dangerously near

will block out of you

before dessert


imaginary friends

of childhood

–audience, scapegoat, and

confidant—

morph. . .

don capes & mask,

posture and swagger,

and bullet-proof vests, too

(without phone booth, or even a nearby Verizon store)

on salad days

(the first order, anyway)

and disrobe

into invisibility

(perceptible to reflections only, and completely un-vampire like)

in mid-age,

as Zeitgeists don’t wear sheets

and come every day lately,

(surprise besties, and hard to pin down)

We visit,

these geists and I,

(butterfly-shaped dust motes subject to atmosphere)

as I smooth

cowl neck sweaters

in every size imaginable

–life falling away

in time-worn bits–

(that’s only fitting)

since drop-in visitors

are proven to be so predictably unexpected.

Know Thyself

Goddess

got us

nowhere

(the me, self, and eye—us)

just

compassion

for animals

since they’re cuter

than the homeless. . .

since camels keep their

toes 2

to a foot,

and pigs DO

eat like pigs

–without consideration–

and fish

almost

never drink.

but is it poetry

 
 
Instead of mopping

what lay beneath,

I painted underfoot

–no scrub, just brush—

–not nail, but soul—

detailing in

tended topography,

I rounded corners

my Technicolor toes

tipping

–traps unsprung–

when momentum seemed to fail

 
 
 
 

in lieu of dusting

grit, I kept it

distributing feathers

in

sweeping mimicry

–as light as hope and

–thrilling as wind and

–detached as the bird

from tale

we’re plucked

 
 

foregoing white

wash

I dyed

–you heard?

that wool that gathered

every day

camouflaging stain so

blinders complimented

perception and

vertigo impressions

labeled: upside down

and

 
 

I skipped packing

up

good

(s)

boxed instead the

(bad)

the

space surrounding

. . .things

–amassing containers

in  public storage, I

(promptly lost the key too

 

On the DL

Karen Robiscoe dba CHARRONs CHATTER

I listen to your smile

–hear it Doppler in the void—

touching your pain

–almost ruefully

–almost tenderly

funny bone pulsing high Q

I see your teeth

(polished w grit)

yell: oW!

(and at length)

I smell your doubt,

too–

in swallow

after

swallow–

the scent of you

indiscernible

–in all these carved

pathways

–annihilating

my memory.

Hearts & Bones


no one-armed banned it

I kept weapons…

why not, it’s my constitutional right

–and ya gotta look after your constitution

(with mandatory health care that suits better than fine)

trigger-pullers

that even with the safety on,

can

.point.

push

or

pray,

and when engaged

can bash in

hope chest

(like that swinger Tarzan)

crammed with whimsical and eclectic items

sum of witch

are quite perishable

(rotten waffles)

others

made out of paper mache boulders

(fragile strength and pseudo stone wall)

still others

just black

(surprisingly Goth for a beach blanket bimbo)

incomplete, incalculable equations

I labor over every day,

and these are breakfast choices, too,

–nothing says “good morning” quite like uncertainty, I never say–

and the surfeit spills

into breadbasket I

often use

as a heavy bag

givin’ it the old 1-2 but never 3 because why

do that to myself?

(see:  a-4-mentioned less than 3 reference which X factor is greater )

Y?

near the

bottomless pit

that accommodates my

ground beaters

–uprights

compromised by

beggin’ bones

the

oh-so-tender future veal

I save for dogs that circle back.

 

 

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