my astilbe Santa

i do think that Santa Claus is real and this proves it.

These are for the parents, these gifts, who's daughter, with third degree burns, was treated first with

Vaseline, then after three days rushed to emergency. We need help, oh lord, with what users us to

curricular, not with our enrollment to it. Hell, I know just about everything there is to know of being

a drug induced sociopath; an iris or alstroemeria that bends in the sun.

so at the Thrift Store this morning i buy a used telescope. But the bevel is broken and the lens is

scratched but as i bring it in the house like the body of a dead soldier, slung in plastic over my shoulder

(did I see this image in "From Hell to Eternity" or did I see this image at all?) I finger the oblong steel.  

Or did I do it one better than sight? Did I feel it as the foil

for a Jupiter the intelligentsia says is true if you just looked westward, as if all those eastward onlookers

are just lazy. So I prop it up on the backs of old books, wedged between two old DELL Monitors:

only freedom and femdom exists at the vanguard of the poor shepherd . And the sheep and the geese

that the school children allow to stroll untouched thru the hallways of their

flimsy horizon. But I sat, the silent jurist that I am, for that distant,

interlocutor to appear, as he did do,

finally.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, this reminds me not of a telescope i had once....but an old typewriter i found by a dumpster...an old beat up manual...one of my friends used to refurbish them...and thus he did with this one...made it like new..

and yet, it was painfully slow banging those keys...but delirious fun...just feeling what it must have felt for the original owner to find his or her way through the keys...

nostalgia arises as i read you.

j.

[Corset]

even the old, used and slightly scratched things still have value in our world, one mans trash is another man's treasure...as we sing our yearly praises.

[h d e rushin]

so true my love....I wander the thrift stores these days looking for items with the new tags still attached. So new becomes a sort of oxymoron or a made up, contradictory concept.
so when I wear the clothes that others have worn, in a since, i take on their disposition. Thank you beloved for stopping by. This year is almost over but the poems we have shared in 2016 will forever ring in the heavenly fame. I love you madly.....dana

[Corset]

as you should! lol. jk :)

[Ken Simm.]

To use; what would seem to the rest of us; an event that has no romance, no appeal as a story even. And turn it into art; seems to be your forte. And I've got to say you do it brilliantly. Bringing your points to the fore and then adding extra flavours or shading to bring the whole series of events into focus. Much in the same way that the telescope did.

[h d e rushin]

i read a poem i wrote in 2012 called "March 23". I have no idea what it was about, but it intimated love and nature (like you do Ken, but without those wonderful colors that you employ). I've changed. We all have changed. Poetry changes us the longer we do it, write it, think it. Not the other way around. We don't morph into different creatures then sit down and write about our normal experiences. We undergo different experiences then we construct poems that fit that particular , perceived narrative.

You are one of my Poetic hero's Ken. I've told you this often but it is even more true today..
So whatever good you see in what iv'e written,
you are, at least, partly responsible....Thank you my dear friend and happy holidays to you and yours....dana

[Ken Simm.]

You are more than welcome dana and thankyou for those generous words about me. Season greetings to you as well.