SIX TAKES ON 'ALIVE' - MMT
Is a slice of hope
enough to keep you alive
for one more sunrise?
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
There is my brother,
the one no longer alive—
wrens still sing of him.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
You slice it open
to see if it’s still alive—
chunks of soul fall out.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
In a great black book
words of healing come alive,
soothing ravaged souls.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
You would not know me,
alive these seventeen years,
since you slipped away.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
There are nine women,
not a single son alive—
they play broken flutes.
enough to keep you alive
for one more sunrise?
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
There is my brother,
the one no longer alive—
wrens still sing of him.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
You slice it open
to see if it’s still alive—
chunks of soul fall out.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
In a great black book
words of healing come alive,
soothing ravaged souls.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
You would not know me,
alive these seventeen years,
since you slipped away.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
There are nine women,
not a single son alive—
they play broken flutes.
Sunday, July 15, 2012 Granny Smith
IF I COULD...
If I could I would live on words.
I would chew grainy words like pumpernickel, lick
slick words that slip against the tongue
and melt like lilikoi
(luscious Hawaaian ice-upon--a-stick).
Nor would I live on food words only
but feast on all the savory
flavored dictionary words
the meaty ones like buxom and contemplate
seasoned with peppery sprinkles
of quip and apple
and I would nibble the edges
of flat round cookies of extrapolate, reforestation
and tickle my palate with perfumed words:
Aldebaran, oriental, satin.
I would open Webster's unabridged
and grow fat on specious, unadulterated, irresolution.
Never never would I grow hungry.
I would give thanks to the great god Gutenberg
and lay me down to sleep
after I sip a soothing drink brewed from
soporific, subliminal,and seraphim
and I will dream of books and libraries
burgeoning with sustenance
I would chew grainy words like pumpernickel, lick
slick words that slip against the tongue
and melt like lilikoi
(luscious Hawaaian ice-upon--a-stick).
Nor would I live on food words only
but feast on all the savory
flavored dictionary words
the meaty ones like buxom and contemplate
seasoned with peppery sprinkles
of quip and apple
and I would nibble the edges
of flat round cookies of extrapolate, reforestation
and tickle my palate with perfumed words:
Aldebaran, oriental, satin.
I would open Webster's unabridged
and grow fat on specious, unadulterated, irresolution.
Never never would I grow hungry.
I would give thanks to the great god Gutenberg
and lay me down to sleep
after I sip a soothing drink brewed from
soporific, subliminal,and seraphim
and I will dream of books and libraries
burgeoning with sustenance
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