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.
Noah Berlatsky featured at Stone Soup this past Wednesday. Such a diverse impressive body of work on display, including a pretty lengthy pantoum. I felt the best way to honor his visit would be a pantoum of my own.
The pantoums I've written are among the favorite pieces I've written. I haven't written one in almost a decade. I'm grateful to Noah for giving me the inspiration to try again.
I might go back and add some lines that didn't make this cut. I almost subtitled this "A Failed Pantoum," but I'll leave it to you to decide.
The poem focuses on what I wish (futilely) to be the last dying breath of the sad establishment as I interact with them regularly.
Thanks for reading.
Last Gasps
The dirge we march to is Independent
while writing angry letters to Jimmy Cater.
How dare free homes steer away ill winds...
While writing angry letters to Jimmy Cater,
we doom scroll our way to biased apocalypse.
Climate change is real and Blue State run!
Even AI says we should be more sensitive.
We doom scroll our way to biased apocalypse.
They're killing our politicians with milkshakes!
Even AI says we should be more sensitive.
They're dancing on all our imagined graves.
They're killing our politicians with milkshakes!
Elon, what if the other planets are woke?
They're dancing on all our imagined graves.
None of those women are turning into salt.
Elon, what if the other planets are woke?
I can hear someone speaking another language!
None of those women are turning into salt.
Somewhere, people are still fucking each other.
I can hear someone speaking another language!
Time is an activist, it makes us all progress.
Somewhere, people are still fucking each other.
Love is still here. Everyone can hear us hate!
Time is an activist, it makes us all progress.
The dirge we march to is Independent!
Love is still here. Everyone can hear us hate!
How dare free homes steer away ill winds...
Special thanks to Richard Spisak, Mary Jennings, Jan Rowe, Bil Lewis, John Stickney, Christiana Cell, Robert Fleming, Ethan Mackler, Jon Wesick, James Van Looy and special feature Noah Berlatsky.
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