This past Saturday (and to a much smaller audience this past Monday), I made the announcement that I am putting Stone Soup Poetry on hiatus. It was an announcement made to a small but loyal group, so of my most faithful, which made it hurt a little.
Therefore, the week already started as an emotional one before the results of Tuesday. It didn't add much to my later editing of the poem, though trepidation permeated my thoughts way before the electoral map turned all bloody. I finally tacked the last words on early this morning. And I even added a Lee Litif reference, because I'm a bit of a smart ass post-depression.
This poem is it is it for now. You can find the rest of my series here. Will I add a closing poem later this year? That depends if I have one more Stone Soup this year, and whether or not that happens if anyone's guess, including mine. Thank you for reading this, and thanks to everyone who attended, read, and featured at Stone Soup at all over the last ten-plus years.
Down on Pearl Street
balls of fire fury back and forth
in search of a single piece of evidence
of the neighborhood's namesake.
Attitude over language,
want in place of war,
song of premature celebration
in place of survivors.
Displaced offspring road trip nowhere,
forever away is not enough
and you miss the left turn home.
Take the wheel willingly
freestyle into a wall,
make the future look better.
Poets imagine we slit throats
with a slight stanza,
shuffle our shabby lyrics
into mass shootings,
the piece to mute all pieces
without a single f-bomb dropped,
the grace of God by way
of very little tact.
I give all your regards
on Broadway headed
to Dot Ave by bus,
Lee Litif trying to hand me
Boston's first legal toke.
|The last of the lists? I hope not.|
Special thanks to Abba Shmuel, Chris Fitzgerald, Lee Varon, Dexter Roberts, Erik Nelson, Martha Boss, Janet Cormier, Toni Bee and James Van Looy.