Or
He went out of the room in which he was praying. He spent there years and years.
He seemed as if he just came out of the depth of an ocean,
or out of the heart of a pearl,
or out of the core of mercy,
or out of the arms of a mother,
He stood and looked around him, what he saw made him return to his room and close the door behind him.
You’re car wasn’t fast
it was slow
enough for me to flow
into the first flowers of spring, rushing past the window
We were cruising ships in the sun
driving in your car
no jackets just warmth & conversation
Down the avenue to anywhere me & you
navigating pitfalls, the roads in the holes in the road
We’re travelling
sometimes faster
spinning with every angry piston
SHHH Listen to the power purring in this engine
moving us along in your car
barreling towards the future
Feel like I could be somebody to love in here
watching the world passing
Here’s To Earth Day, Don’t Forget to Do Something For Mother Nature!
To be blonde or not to be
That
is the question?
The sub rocks me into a slippery self consciousness
So me and Marley fold into my seat and start jamming
We jamming
Blasting through the microcosmic speakers
riding each lazy beat with euphoric glee
when across from me
this dude twists up his face
the other passengers scramble
like frantic cockroaches about to be smushed
I look
300 pound bowling ball of a man stands with a gun in his hand
waving as if he was princess Diane
I dam near lose a bowel movement
Tripping over people to get to the exit quick
What kind of shit is this that I just witnessed
I was trying to get to work and handle my business
Now I got lateness all on my plate
Damn. It had to be today.
i kneel to God
he knows i pray
because im going to
lay a man out
today
i can’t help it he was in my way
to greatness
what to do when the poet cannot sleep…so i take paper to pen and jot down notes of legend, incept a concept so perplex that it alters my perception
Unfamiliar spaces produce unfamiliar faces with hollow glances in foreign places
I’ve never been here
A stranger in my own mind, rewind, who let all these people in
Reverie’s latchkey
has been broken
Dreamed the thong of my sandal broke.
Nothing to hold it to my foot.
How shall I walk?
Barefoot?
The sharp stones, the dirt. I would
hobble.
And–
Where was I going?
Where was I going I can’t
go to now, unless hurting?
Where am I standing, if I’m
to stand still now?
The Broken Sandal by Denis Levertov
The Poetry Corner 