A mean streak is running through things. There is a cycle of poems from the street happening. I have a poet partner and friend named Rachel who runs a blog called The Waxing Moon. Go there and read the comments too to catch the whole thing. This is the best part of being a poet on the internet, I think.
Rachel lives up in Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory of Canada. I guess we both have seen the streets. I happen to know that neither of us live like this, not for a long time. No girl has ever knocked me to my knees. One woman drove me down there screaming in pain by saying she was going to leave me behind. That happened in 2000. I saw a man, a screwed up husband knock his wife down one time, she in a leg cast, this after he had knocked me down. I was actually innocent of any bad behavior. I don't know what all has happened in Rachel's life but I have a feeling she's been there. But right now we are both poets and often sympatico. She started something and I have replied and then she replied and I have replied again with this one.
The Best One
Knocked to my damn knees
and scraped along the gravel,
tore my pants big time.
Who would think Junebug
could do that to me again?
You'd think I would learn
even though this is good
goddamn dope from the honest
dealer down the street.
Don't change my mind though.
She's still my best bitch.
Written October 3, 2011 7:30 PM
We never really want to be talked out of our addictions. Stuff, people, substances. We strut around in them like favorite jeans with stretched out asses. Don't even try to talk me down from those blues. I've worn 'em in just perfect.
ReplyDeleteI love the dance of words, Christopher. It's such fun when we get going like this.
ReplyDeleteSpider
ReplyDeleteI knew you’d come back
slowly scuttling back
once your rage wore down
to an aching nub and your stomach
growled for belonging.
You had no place else to go.
I kept an ear on the door
and my mind sharp, ready
to pounce, hungry
to get the fight over with
so I could fold you in my arms
my pale, lonely arms
and weave my fingers tight
through your sad, sorry spider hair.
Annie, I know. You know I know. :D
ReplyDeleteRachel, and it continues. You took a grand turn. I followed.
Yeah. We get it. You and I. Kinda strange eh Christopher?
ReplyDeleteNo, Annie, not really. There are many people. It's just that we don't usually get to say so and find each other. But it is still true that most don't get it...
ReplyDeleteActually you gotta love the internet for the chance to find each other.
ReplyDeleteIndeed I do.
ReplyDelete