Cotton thingies that fly off trees.

Against the weariness of anything homemade,

like a quilt made from the hides of emogies

the tree on the corner where Michael

was shot-gunned by his brother still gives off

cotton in spring. Children still jump to catch

resembling ballet dancers demolished from

"The Firebird". Seed-like diamonds gather

in irrigation ditches, on the antenna of Buicks,

in my fathers beard

the dendrochronology like the rings of Saturn

or the arbitrary marks on a stone

the caveman made for red when what

he really meant was orange;

red when what he meant to say was colorless.

Each time I pass it i'm reminded of

Margaret Garner's

deep breathing before her imminent recapture.

How a slave girl kills her kids rather than return

to cruelty.(sic)

Ellington would tell us, had he lived, of

how he came to expect the tender sounds of Russell Procope

(Youtube "Idiom 59)  just as we expect the cartilaginous rods

that stiffen the walls of our body

and protects our viscery from the boneless

punch of the blues. Of our woman running

off with another man and the me of

metaphor holding the wrinkled young child

in my lap singing temporal patterns in

the stifling, Delta heat. May as well make

yourself pretty as the cottonwood

in what's left of life.

May as well.

Reviews

[JC]

so many great lines here, such tragedy and beauty, how you combine and or see nature in urbanity and how your mind unveils and rolls out so much more than what was there or what could be seen. I love this piece man, it stands alone with no need of explanation just praise...I'd love to see this made into a short film with narrative...

[h d e rushin]

thank you so much JC for stopping by to visit me.....And thanks for that suggestion.....dana

[JC]

never need for thanks, you're the real deal, always a pleasure

[John Alexander McFadyen]

This is breathtakingly profound! An intelligent and sensitive write! I have nothing left to say....................

[h d e rushin]

thank you John Gabriel for your kind words my friend.....dana

[jacob erin-cilberto]

as many things change, some remain constant...that tree is a reminder...and it is a nice interruption to the heartbreak and casualties of life...the tree is strong...and still provides the dance...maybe it is the dance around the ashes like Dee in "Everyday Use"

and maybe society will rise again and become strong with peace and love...and we can all gambol to catch those cotton thingies...

this is a "punch of the blues" but certainly not boneless in its bite.

[h d e rushin]

what a review! And

What a person you are Jacob. Thank you my friend...dana