Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions picked up from poems overheard from Stone Soup's open mic readers and features. I figure out a title (and sometimes the rest of the poem) later. You can read the other ones I've done since 2015 here. To paraphrase Lorne Michaels, this poem doesn't go up because it's ready, it goes up because it's Friday morning.
Last night was an open mic. Just a quiet one before all the craziness of the weekend with not one but two great poetry events tomorrow. Still a nice turnout given how many people are spread thin through multiple poetry events all month. We even had someone from our days at the Out of The Blue Art Gallery on Prospect street come back for a visit after being away for years. That always helps whatever I write come out better, even if it is random as hell. Thanks for reading. I hope to see some of you during this last weekend of National Poetry Month.
But You Regress
The relief color indigo
you reflex towards
belongs to a car
that will pick you up
either to throw you
further into the street
or send you to
your new vocation.
Do you think you have
what it takes to join
a new Light Brigade?
Do or die is the easiest
mission statement
you could work under.
Hungover from rapture,
smelling like pearl onions,
The sisters of Our Lady
Too Dumb to Leave
hopes you find a savior
waiting on the curb
or feed yourself with cups
of coffee turned into baskets
on baskets of pick-up
from your church hops.
Instead you pick up homeless
to crash at your place,
a ready made cavalry
to charge at your call
or march in circles as if
learning how to dance alone.
 |
| Maybe E.S. will reveal their identity later. |
Special thanks to Martha Boss, Bil Lewis, John Lane, Laurel Lambert and E.S.
No comments:
Post a Comment