Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions picked 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.
It does once again, at least, now that I'm back from vacation.
John Lane featured last night. The day he featured was moved to Thursday due to a scheduling issue at the gallery. I'm grateful for John's flexibility. I'm grateful to everyone who showed. We even had a visitor from Barcelona who follows Oddball Magazine. I think I'll keep my Facebook pages going for a while longer, evil as they are.
A large part of inspiration came from John's poems. Some in his new book dry stick prayer, some not. The rest came form the impending pandemic. Yes, that's where my mind is. We're all screwed. Thanks for reading anyway.
A Pox on Us
We check our pulses
between airport frisks.
Let's make sport of it,
time every waking moment
on our watches,
see who makes it furthest
before symptoms show.
Spin in own circles,
create own maelstroms.
Play colonialist.
Wear old pork pies
as pilgrim's caps.
Hand loved ones
our fleece blankets
most likely infected
Such grim visions
of probability itself,
Schrodinger's cat
is announced stillborn.
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| Hello Barcelona! |
Special thanks to Ethan Mackler, Kymm Coveney, Jan Rowe, James Van Looy and feature John Lane.
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