Happy National Poetry Month. We had our first open mic for the month last night. I have a lot of work to do today in relation to poetry, so I'm cutting the intro short and getting to the poem I tried to rite last night.
Lights Out
Sanburg's cat-scratched fog
grazes backs of wandering heads
like static, names traced
in the waving hair of everyone
in restless walk or sleep
attempting to outdream death,
invisible light tattoos
of America's forgotten.
Sleeping dragons lie under bridges,
convince themselves
razing homes is not jihad.
The trolls all moved on
from bridges to online,
blowing whistles
to those who pass
without giving tribute
to confederate flags jpegs.
Sated, they go back
to writing fake news
calling the concentration camps
in Poland harmless tourism,
rowdy and free but for
the snoping dogs
nipping at their feet.
And the frightened
who fear the alchemy
of their on urine
knock wood away
to thank that there are
no night raids, afraid
to rub two bricks together,
and attract the wolves
who hate motivation.
Off shore, whales copy croons
of their captives
singing for salvation.
Special thanks to Chris Robbins, Reece Cotton, Deb Priestly, Lee Varon, Martha Boss, Julia Carlson, Nancy Messom, Gawaine Ross, Leonardo Toffin, and James Van Looy.
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