Spring Tramping

Bob, , ,

The cosmic roughhouse
Of yellow flowers

Purple fingerprints
On UFOs

Verse barreled
Over Niagara Falls

I don’t want anything
Just unkempt astonishment

~

The mote in the sunbeam is sovereign of the unknowable

Like probability
The number of insects in the field

A point has no circumference

A slim chance of dusk on the city roofs
The electrical towers sing your name

~

Afterward, it’s a bath then a long walk, I think of joints
Smoked in the parking lots of abandoned retail giants,
At dusk. The abstract laundry to hang,

Or how flowers touch the imperceptive steadiness of being
When the spring moon is null.

~

He knew the dead ends, where the chain link is pulled from its post,
How the moon transforms into feral words, across fields, a moon chased down
By sidewalk chalk verses. The ambler on the first day of spring
Must always in a few uncertain words puzzle us all.

24 thoughts on “Spring Tramping”

  1. An absolute masterpiece Bob! Once again the imagery is so original. So many lines to relish here. Why not start with the very first – “The cosmic roughhouse Of yellow flowers.” What a combination, a reminder that even in the most bad ass, roughest, late night Bukowski bar carousing, fighting soul, there is a flower inside. I think it’s a sense of belonging that also strikes me, like in the lines, “A slim chance of dusk on the city roofs The electrical towers sing your name.” If a name is sung, it’s a gift telling us that we are here, like a diary does in reverse, that proof written on paper, an ode to life or god or whatever, a thank you to the electrical tower for saying our names.

    All in all, your poem does an amazing thing, words that leave me wondering – “Must always in a few uncertain words puzzle us all.”
    Bravo Bob! Great job.

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    1. Thanks so much Steve! I really like how you said that there’s a flower inside, even if we carousing. Speaking of Bukowski, it reminds me of his poem Bluebird. There’s something magical about electric towers, I know they are mundane, but I’ve always been attracted to them. And I usually come across them when I walking in a field. I’m glad you liked the last line. Thanks again. I’m really glad it’s spring. It’s got me excited again.

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      1. I think it’s a great gift Bob, to admire worldly things like architecture, old tv’s and turntables and electric towers. There’s an anchor in it, a saying – yes, I like this world. I’m glad to be here and see all these beauties, both natural and man made.

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      2. I think you’re right. I can sometimes be difficult to situate yourself. Especially in today’s world. I’m glad you pointed that out. Now I feel even better about like electrical towers. And fire escapes on the outside of brick buildings.

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  2. terrific , Bob; one of your best; I felt frissons reading this” that ambler on the first day of Spring, joints smoked in the parking lots of abandoned retail giants, the abstract laundry to hang: that combination real and surreal — and that killer line, I don’t want anything just unkempt astonishment !!!! brilliant, that speaks to me, Bob —

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    1. Thank you John! I’m really glad you like the line about the unkempt astonishment. I was excited that came to me. It was a long winter here, so I’m really glad to get out again now that it’s spring and amble. I had to look up the word frissons. What a great word, I hope to use it someday in a poem. Thanks again! Real and surreal together, I never thought about it that way…that’s really cool.

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  3. This is brilliant Bob. It soars. Each of the initial 8 stanzas is like a loaded constellation. “I don’t want anything but unkempt astonishment” is both wow and a description of what you’ve delivered.

    The last two sections create a beautiful landing. I feel like I’m touching down, still up there, still reeling, but bouncing down some farmers field in the middle of the night. Coming into a new space/dimension of the poem. How’d my fingers get purple? The entire last stanza is pure gold. Every line and word placement. For crying’ out loud. Enough already… I’m going to go and find an abandoned parking lot, maybe do a chalk drawing and chase down the moon. Wonderful, not to mention very inspiring writing.

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    1. Thank you Chris! You are right about the unkempt line. It sums it up for me. I’m really glad its spring. The end of long winter can be tough. If you’re out in abandon parking lots, you might bump into me. I think some chalk drawings/chalk poems sounds perfect. I’m really glad you liked this one. Thank you!

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      1. you’re welcome! I’ve found myself wondering, when you are talking walks, do poems/lines for a poem spontaneously come to you without you looking for them or is it more of, actively observing as you walk and taking note of what you see to use in a poem?

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      2. It’s always nice when a line for poem just come to you. But mostly when I walk it is active observing. Just taking it in. Something to the rhythm of walking that puts me into kind of meditation.

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      3. That’s really interesting! I find it amazing how you brilliantly pair what you see with creative lines, like this in line
        “how flowers touch the imperceptive steadiness of being”
        and in this one “The electrical towers sing your name”
        just to mention a few.

        and interestingly enough as I was walking today (it has been raining here and wildflowers are finally in bloom) I found myself thinking of your line “how flowers touch the imperceptive steadiness of being” in a way, it felt so as I looked at them. Its interesting it changed my perspective in that moment.

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Thanks Nolsen. I’m so glad you liked that line. And that you thought about it on your walk. That’s wonderful. And your walk, just after the rain, amongst wildflowers, sounds amazing. Thanks again. Hope you have a great rest of the week!

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