The Dents of Highway Laughs

Begin in the knees of the earth. 
Walk the dizziness of  

A poem that breathes in space exhales into the void. 

Remember the
Tomb tipping
Guts of spring,

The sea and the eyelashes
Defying gravity,

The ping pong playing peonies
Of electric yesterdays. 

Remember how
All at once 
The universe put on
Its legs
And walks like 

A fiasco of names
On a checker board.

Will you walk with me?

In the opposite of acquisition? 
Who else can see these widowed months?

Beckoning at the table
Where is the pen and paper that ribs time and space with the dents of
    highway laughs?

I walk and walk, 

In a coat, black, collared, the curve of which almost touches the ear. 
    No hat.
What is it in us that allows us past narrative ghosts?

For this I penciled in the page and erased around the poem

Like an astronaut fills the page

With the memory of a jellyfish. 

I stayed up all night

Playing solitaire
On the PC
With the radio on,

Curating the ramblings.

The soul is a runway for anything
Willing to fly.

What do we know?
It is only afterward

A sense of being. 

6 thoughts on “The Dents of Highway Laughs

  1. I love the mad scramble of images, esp the ‘widowed months’ and ‘the soul is a runway for anything willing to fly’ ; what the ^%$#%^? but it’s brilliant. I’m going to have to tell my poems to lift their game. Actually I might write a poem about this; may I quote a few lines with due attribution,of course 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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