Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions selected 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 collecting the best of my first year of poems. Click here to purchase it.
Does the poem below measure to the work that inspired it? How could it? But at least I'm caught up.
At the very least, I'm caught up.
Thanks for reading.
Take Back the Flight
Every Juneteenth barbecue
that doesn't happen is one
more year when whites
can't express disdain over
The propped up drama must
be released or interest will
accrue interest will cause
Angrytown, Massachusetts
to riot and burn thankfully
empty schools. Kids will
more vividly recall when
they heard their moms,
their uncles, mutter barely
under breath and realize
their family might just be
terrible people, that fences
are for keeping more than
crows out, and even the
town cemetery is just one
more gated community.
No homeless would dare
sleep in their parents'
garden for fear of what
scarlet letters would be
carved on foreheads by
dawn. The way out by
the parkway station is just
an underground railroad
hiding in plain sight.
The children would rather
leave it up to the wind
than to bitter teachers
waiting for them to return
on Thursday. They'll leave
suicide notes in their home's
one single tree. That will
stop their search for a while,
let them run until the outer
demons weaken, turn inward,
keep them able to move
away, keep moving on
to their brand new homes.
Special thanks to Janice Oldham, Jon Wesick, Jan Rowe, Black Byrd, Rich Boucher, Mary Ann Honaker,Jeff Taylor and James Van Looy.
1 comment:
Somewhere in all this mishgas I came upon a link to some chapbook of yours, and now can't find it again.
I'm used to you hosting Stone Soup, but you've rarely read there while I was in attendance. (And I might return someday.)
I wanted to tell you the two poems in your book read (that were available without purchase) read like disjointed aphorisms of dynamic cynicism from an otherwise innocent(ish) young man who's been bouncing of the cement walls and sidewalks of Jamaica Plain for far too long.
Pity is I was thinking of buying a copy, but now I can't find the link again.
Someday I hope you write a love story with a beginning, middle, and endless end. Unity of time and action would help us live through the beginnings, middles and endless ends of your strifes.
Live long and write more, Parmenteau.
Ken
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