No Menu Poetry

In the uneven margins

And over the scribbled lines

Sometimes the sad gallons in the moon

A tattoo of a trash heap

The sleeve of poesy rolled up like a cup

The sky

Was never where it was

The stillness you feel

Is the universe expanding

The measure needed

For new windows

Sooner and later is a just so story

The mystery keeps its gambols

11 thoughts on “No Menu Poetry

  1. I’m sort of addicted to you tube or not sort of, totally. I should buy a turn table or a compact disc player and order albums and CD’s to reward musicians. Anyway, I get home from work and start up you tube and the thing spits out one tune or album after another. Today, I had a hankering for The Kinks and well, the song “Apeman” goes pretty damn well with the last line of this poem, a new word for me – gambols……”the mystery keeps its gambols.” That’s a wonderful line and i mean it literally as in wonder full, filled with wonder, this entire poem, has me hoping that some playful meets me this weekend and you too Bob and all your readers. I’m drinking Boreale IPA, mostly because it’s 6.2 %. Now I’m switching to the band Brain Jonestown Massacre.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Steve! I love the Kinks, and Apeman is fantastic. I just played it to refresh my memory. And the song really sums up how I feel lately about this world. Then I had to put on This Time Tomorrow, on the same record…and just as excellent a song. Enjoy your IPA! Enjoy your weekend…and hopefully something interesting and wonderful happens. Keep the mystery alive!

      Liked by 1 person

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