Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions picked from Stone Soup Poetry'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.
I also have a book out now collecting the best of my first year of poems. Click here to purchase it.
The open mic was on point and starting poet Jon Wesick helped provide bookends to the piece. Given Stephanie's openness, I felt it was only right to write this in first person, even though I'm not sure this is a "me" poem.
So here it is. Stephanie never intended to give me a challenge, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Thanks for reading.
The Pale Gaze
Spent twenties in search of woman
who applied makeup like sparse mustard
rather than mayo slopped on pastrami.
My ship comes in under bridge, and
I'm too afraid to jump for fear of
a partner quoting Ayn Rand to counter
MLK. Yes, yes I'm listening...Yes,
Dead President's Lives Matter, Uh-huh...
Another failure to convince hometown
that I stopped growing at sixth grade,
chicks long roosted, fate undeterable.
Meat too bad to cannibalize, remains
to be forgotten in garage, later poked
by trespassing kids, skin tugged like tarp.
There's a woman who knows me better
than me except for my name, intent on
finding and deconstructing my self.
No matter how many times it's happened
before. Nothing left but time to wait and
understand: This is reparations for a lifetime
of hidden crimes pre-internet, pre-pronhub.
A new lifetime to reassemble map, retrace
where it all went wrong. She better hurry.
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| Get a new mic, James and Jan! We miss you! |
Special thanks to John Sturm, Jon Wesick, Patricia Carragon, Nancy Dodson, John Sturm, Laurel Lambert, Chris Fitzgerald, Carol Weston, Bil Liews, Ethan Mackler, C.C. Arshagra and Stephanie Kaylor.
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