Tingling with space,
Corralling chance.
Everywhere this is the cosmos,
Reckless frames and still art.
~
A rhombus of laundromat poems
In the help wanted section.
Like a scarf around a lamppost.
The stones near the sea are still.
But I imagine the birds on the moon
Are a ruckus.
naïve haircuts 
Oh brilliant ending!!!!!
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Thank you Worms!!
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This is fantastic! The first two lines, in particular, grab my attention, but the whole poem is full of novel and intriguing imagery. Well done!
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Thank you!!
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You are teaching me, Bob, that poems can be other than narrative – even quirky, subversive narrative: poems can be like a stack of cards, face down, turned over one by one, but read as they are turned, linked, placed, each successive one within the last like Russian dolls, like a performance-memory artist, and then placed about in related stacks, patchworked, quilted, spread
‘It’ may well have started small (ace of spades? … or anything at all that is noticed, by anyone, but particularly you, or me) // but nothing stands by itself like an island, it tingles ‘with space’, context, relevance, pertinence / ‘corralling chance’, like a fruit machine handle / and this, and everything else, in pack-spread, stack-spread complexity, happens ‘everywhere’ in this ‘cosmos’ / making seeming little sense despite ‘reckless frames’ of science and philosophy signifying nothing, ‘and still art’ that snapshots or freeze-frame moves, 24 per second … / ~ let’s stop and take stock before it all gets too complicated: / so things are adventitious happenstance, they do not signify beyond themselves except in their ancestry, such as ‘a rhombus of laundromat poems’ (beautiful), / ‘a scarf around a lamppost’ / ‘the stones near the sea’ are back to a whole beach of ace-of-spades, / this we know if we but let ourselves, but let’s not de-limit ourselves to what we know and let here, let’s ‘imagine the birds on the moon’ // in all their colourful ‘ruckus’
that you for the lesson, Bob
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m lewis, thank you so much for the comment. I really like the Russian doll analogy. Without a narrative, I am always worried what holds the poem together. Is it images, tone? I love your reading of the poem. It has brought out things I didn’t think about. Thank you so much!
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Brilliant deconstruction. I think I saw that fruit handle corralling chance in my reading.
And yes, a “rhombus of laundromat poems” (they do not signify beyond themselves except in their ancestry)….yes…..
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Thank you!!
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I meant to comment earlier but wasn’t sure how to put it. I enjoyed all the geometry that filters throughout this poem. And a feeling of wind blowing through an immense landscape. Man as a tiny dot in the middle. An image I’ve often had with your poetry.
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Thanks Sunra. Yea, I guess that motif does follow me. It reminds me of a movie I recently saw, “Everything Everywhere all at Once.” It’s very good, and deals with that tiny dot feeling.
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OMG that film looks amazing!
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It’s super good!
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Oh, this is brilliant! Only after I finished reading the poem did I appreciate the title.
The lines I adore:
Reckless frames and still art,
A rhombus of laundromat poems
And then the final three lines of the poem. Just wow.
I love the work “ruckus”,,,
and the title of the poem…leading to ruckus.
Truly this is a cacophony of sound and cosmic circus. I can’t exactly say here what I want to express about this one. It reminds me a bit of e.e. cummings’ poetry. There’s a stilted, jilted aspect, touching on somewhere while arriving everywhere that reminds me of his work. His poems are like a planet spinning on its tilted axis.
The last three lines are so good….I imagine the stones….then the birds on the moon. I feel like I just now skipped a rock to the middle of the ocean, and it sank to the seabed, maybe into a magma pit. Fire.
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How I love those impactful ending lines that bring this poem to a finite close!
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Thank you Jaya!! Glad you liked it!
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i always get sucked into you tube after work. the site always creates me a play list to my liking, an algorithm we’re all under, a good one if you ask me……tonight i took matters into my own mind and searched out my own songs. it had a been a while since i went wu tang clanging and what was the first song that you tube delivered me by me putting wu tang clang in the search box? enter the 36 chambers//////// i think that’s the album and the first song? Bring on the mother fucking ruckus and i immediately thought back to your poem and so i came back and read it again and “the birds on the moon,” a big reminder of tomorrow, that there will be more……more ruckus and that reminds me of john cooper clarke…….friction is the mother of pearls. thank you Bob.
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just discovered this, Bob: the second stanza is a stunning little vignette: I love it ! and , yes, it’s going in my commonplace book 🙂
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Awesome! Thank you John!!
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