Forever Friend

 I was (as you know)

your father's friend,

his support and sanctuary.

He trusted me

with his Royal

and knew I would guard

his heavy black pencils,

gum erasers,

handheld hole punch

and precious papers.

Robert Frost, 

forever choosing between two roads,

was my partner

your Dad's familiar,

watching over us from the wall.

And you, young lady,

used to slip in on the sly

and pretend to be

as great as the man you loved so much.

Now he has passed

but you have his treasures in a box

and me 

in your home,

an honored guest.

I know you know

that I am your friend as well

and can be trusted to be here

(sans ashtray)

to guard your things and your heart

just as I did

for your Daddy

when you were just a child.

for Dverse Poetics: Personifying the Abstract

Music: Nilsson Good Old Desk

Remember, Word Garden Word List remains active until Sunday!

Still Life w/ Cryptids

 

The fox with a layer in its mouth explained:

it is merely a totem,

a representation

or avatar,

but the hen's red throat 

called bullshit

as it died.

The women with stones in their pockets

were made lonely by the waters of the river.

They sang, their heavy diver's helmets ringing

with rare harmonics

hailed by critics

panned by pop fans

and made more difficult to understand

the further from the surface they sank.

Everyone said it would be the moon,

but it was the sun who went mad,

incinerating gardens in an afternoon.

Cosplay Aztecs

held up hearts

in their palms.

Please join us for the afterglow

with refreshments and a swag bag.

Everyone thought that the baby's first word

would be "Mama", but it was "Dada." 

Tristan Tzara's disciple Marcel Duchamp

 presented the child as a readymade

with orange tail

and silver helmet,

an artless objet d'art he named L.H.O.O.Q.

with enigmatic smile + mustache. 

_______

for Word Garden Word List--The Last To Go. 

Music: DJ Dero The Horn (El Tren) Batucada'n Bass Mix

When There Were No Connections

When there were no connections
between us, our senses, our skin
and the world we were living in,
the white smear erasure of our minds made us birds in an atmosphere of anvils.

Survival left rippling cracks in the plate glass
of our temporal back-beat;
People mistook us for Dada tickets but we were 
just a wedge in a bar of a song in our heads

To be remembered each Fourth Of July
as we concuss, diffuse, and catch each other's eye
even in gravity boots,
even in the dark.
_______

for Kenia's guest post at Real Toads. I chose the following song: