Dirty 30 in 30

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap09 - ???

Photographs of feathers
soften the verbs and rough
breaks of the poems we have piled up
over forty pages.

I imagine him holding the feather
at the bottom of this page, his finger petting
the curl up, courting the shadow and holding

the shot. Another, this one with its down
tousled, forced
from the pillow as we squeeze
in splay-fingered hands

slowly unclenching this
feather, a quill that strokes
his fancy firm.

 

[StepStransky]

2-15

Collapse; when the plain white
meets us, there will be no
crease without purpose. Our
writing will be scribbled across
this void; and sometimes I will
need you to stop my hand from
shaking, and sometimes I will
push your lead to the edge of its snap.
Pillows might burst apart and leak
their words in waiting. We will have
to lock eyes for safety as further we sink,
deep into the madness of quills
and feathers.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap09-way behind

The bathroom mirror claims
new significance: its gaze
substitute for yours as I pull up
my hair or let it fall against
pale shoulders. Each click-closed
medicine cabinet door frames
a picture I may or may not take,
may or may not send.
Nothing unsafe for work.
Not yet.

 

[StepStransky]

2-16

From the convenience store two doors away comes
the call for help. He won't come to my door, of course. In fact,
we all accept that here; he has an odd sort of celebrity that
no-one can describe. If ever I were to open my door to him, I
think I would worry that the room behind me wasn't straight.

I turn up, as requested; we stand across the counter. "I'm
just really worried about him," he tells me, but then a guy
comes in for smokes. They exchange some words on fishing
and I wait beside the ice cream cabinet for our next window to open.
Finally, "He won't talk to anyone, see?" Then there's a lotto sale
and a number of remarks about golf. I wait. Five customers; five
scripts. They each come in for so much more than whatever it is their
five pounds buys them.

In between the updates, we formulate a plan. We agree on
two approaches, and he smiles. I leave the shop nearly
an hour after I entered. He calls out to thank me;
yet, somehow, I feel like I'm the one who is privileged.
I got to stay whilst the others all had to take their receipts
and leave.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap09-Water Colored

Evidences of kindness do not always come in
paper receipts. Sometimes the evidence is
a dirty dish, a dried cheek, and this time it is the electronic
images of limbs in lieu of a hug to keep the fret
off my forehead. I can't afford the wrinkles
anyway; Christ knows how much I spend
on moisturizers.

Oh yes I am well aware of the snickering
when I have wept or leaked or pooled: the baptist
they said. Laughed when my colors ran
as if I put them there! But I know it isn't only me.
All of us are made of water. What point
is there in pretending to be dust? Plaster? You can only
hold so still so long before the second hand bites your arm
and pulls the life up to the surface, dripping down
red. And isn't it a kindness not to be afraid

of the blood I have spilled nor of me for having
leaked it all, so? Isn't it a sort of love
to offer an arm to someone whose mess
is so evident? My lover takes off his shoes and steps
inside, not worried about the footprints
he may leave in the dust when he steps out
of our embrace. He carries me, wet into dry
like life into the desert, in his hands
and on his soles.

 

[StepStransky]

2-17

Gathered together for a moment, united in the
hope of short-term relief like the occupants
of the five-fifteen bus queue, what will
this huddle of words mean to me in ten
years time, when their moment is passed?
Will they shine my nowness upon me, bathe
me back into this moment... or will I frown
and try to place the issue? Will I see my soul
exposed.... or will I see the thrashing of my rage?

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap-09

Moving in any direction is going to be painful
but what else is there to do with full lungs
and a beating heart but to move? Yes

it hurts to take another step and another
but isn't it good to feel anything? Isn't it better
than the alternative?

 

[StepStransky]

2-18

You gave a blessing.
I don't believe in karma,
but thanks anyway.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap09 old nothing new

It is that old nothing new path
through Penn Station
fumigating the time between trains
with parfum samples.

In the corridor, schedule watchers wait
between sets of teeth descending in
long jaws to the tracks below.
Pretzels glow gold, gemmed by salt.

The longest line is at Carlton Cards where
nervous New Yorkers buy lotto or lotto
for life, shoving their fingers deep into pockets
for lonely twenties and fives.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I thought I'd come catch up on some poetry.

Whatever that is.

StepStransky, this is an excellent run. This:

If ever I were to open my door to him, I
think I would worry that the room behind me wasn't straight.
.

really knocked me out.

And Dora, darling, you're shiny as usual. I really liked this bit here, though. The whole piece was blinding, really.

All of us are made of water. What point
is there in pretending to be dust? Plaster? You can only
hold so still so long before the second hand bites your arm
and pulls the life up to the surface, dripping down
red. And isn't it a kindness not to be afraid

oh man. Really fine.

 

[StepStransky]

StepStransky, this is an excellent run. This really knocked me out.

ty

 

[StepStransky]

2-19

Chronically fatigued doesn't mean having no
energy; you can be bright and sparky as anything until
you actually try to do something. I met her for
coffee and, when she sang her regular greeting,
I felt hope step forward. But sixty minutes of chat
drained her like it does the dodgy battery
in my cell phone.

And that was last year. Now the place that emptied
her core looks forward, cuts its ties. The boat is
left to drift out of sight - good luck, we hope it all
works out and everything - and we, her ex-colleagues,
stand and reappraise our desire
to do a good job.

 

[StepStransky]

2-20

Inevitably,
it's through a sleepiness haze
I sometimes see you.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap09

Don't get too comfortable. We've got a long
ride ahead. Sure, you can order up some relief.
Flight attendants know not to look judgmental
until the third or fourth little bottle of Jack Daniels.
It will be all right but still, wear that belt
tight on your lap. You never know

when wind will shift, lift up your composite metal
on its round haunches and thrust you, spinning,
out into the visible world, no longer hidden
in the skirts of clouds. There you are completely
visible, almost naked and I can see you.
Which is fine, isn't it? Fine. And you see me too
the whole while you fall from five hours away.

 

[StepStransky]

2-21

arms, aching
hours, longer
sleep, pulling
keyboard, waiting
wordcount, trailing

eyes, stinging
wordcount, trailing
napo, fading
journal, sitting
sleep, pulling

journal, sitting
feathers, falling
screen, glowing
keyboard, waiting
hours, longer
sleep, pulling
sleep, pulling
sleep, pulling

listeners, waiting
summer, calling
sleep, pulling
sleep, pulling
lover, waiting
sleep, pulling
sleep, pulling
lover, waiting
sleep, pulling
sleep, pulling

sleep, pulling

sleep

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Whatever that is. StepStransky, this is an excellent run.

I agree. I look forward to reading Step's poem each day.

And Dora, darling, you're shiny as usual. I really liked this bit here, though. The whole piece was blinding, really. oh man. Really fine.

Thanks. I really appreciate your encouragement.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap-09 something

sleep billows her sails
blown frothy with brine that falls
on your closing lids.

 

[StepStransky]

2-22

My ex-trainer asks me how
I did. "Four minutes better than
last year," I tell him, and add the time,
thinking he will understand
the significance of that! But
compliments are hard to come by, these
days. I get no 'well done,' but a
tale instead of some friend of his who
did it twelve minutes faster, and that
was after she did the first mile alongside
some old guy. In fairness, it is
a pretty good story. I mutter something
about having a long way to go and
climb the stairs to the gym, reminding
myself to expect nothing from no-one. And
trying to put aside the thought that
there was something else being said. After
all, he is my ex-trainer.

 

[StepStransky]

2-23

The old man pulled his scooter over
to let the children with their tennis
racquets pass. I heard them say 'thank you'
in sing-song voices, but he looked away.
Perhaps he didn't hear. The next folk he
came to, he complained about the kids
of today.

 

[StepStransky]

2-24

You are never bold for long these days, or so
it seems. And no green ball shows now the back
of your head in our secondary lounge. You told
me things were better now, improved. I am so
glad. It's good to see you take steps forward,
even if they lead you away.

Yes, it is so easy to forget that all new norms
must end. Daily we would talk, weekly we would
dance and all the world's solutions lay in
irreverent rumination. We knew each other
well. Perhaps that's what I miss, more than
anything: being known and the knowing.

You are never bold for long these days, or so
it seems. I hope things really are that way: no
third time lucky or - worse, perhaps - my own
perspective back. Let's agree we each took
steps to make things better. Let's keep our
fingers crossed for each other and resolve

never to forget the way back
if we should ever need it.

 

[StepStransky]

2-25

The short version is, because
no-one ever asked. That's not
quite true. Two people indicated
and he ran for the hills.

Why? It's simple, I suppose. This
lad just didn't have the tools. He
had the aspiration, but there's
something they say about nice guys

which is actually only true in our
bubble. Not many people realise just
how much can be accomplished by
moving bubble. He didn't.

Until he did. Move bubble, that is.
When he did, it seemed to him like
there'd been a magic answer out there
all along. Square pegs might not fit

round holes comfortably, but for
damned sure it's better than being
empty forever. I know. He probably
should have looked more. Well.

There's more to tell, but the
details need space to stretch in.

 

[StepStransky]

2-26 Adult content

Space-age builds show the
acceptable face of the
spilling of semen.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap09-dunnohowmany

The roar of a tiger may sound a bit timid
when digitally reproduced, when held
until the right moment to chime in so as not
to be further diminished by hoochie woots
and petty orgasma advertising. It may

sound more like a rumble, or like
some slippered purr against planks
in early morning against the hiss of fresh
coffee in the French press. Darling
it is there under the flannel and under
the years, still. Put your hand here
and you will feel her whiskers.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap-09 something something

For Children in the Brave New World

Remember, you are never alone.
You will be brand-tested. Yes?
Or no? Scannable transactions
shadow you. Listen, children,
for the internet calls your name
offers your records for a modest
charge to anybody's credit card.

Don't let this make you paranoid.
Just let it sink in like microwaves;
let it pass on through. It's normal
to feel a little cooked.

Remember to vote. Voting assumes
you are documented. If you are not
documented, become documented.
Even if you must marry, change your name,
be born again. Documents are always
obtainable. It's harder to get a ride.
Vote in the slim hope that someone
will open your envelope, read your letter,
fire your bus-driver, whatever issue.
If you are caught being a criminal
you will lose your vote. Then you must
buy politicians which will require
money.

Coins: rub two nickels together.
Repeat. Put something red
under your pillow case.
Slave and save. Remember
the washer-woman who spent
her life on her knees saving, saving
to send her son to college and then
when he died to send any woman's child
to Harvard, for years to come,
preference given to those, like her son,
with dark skin. Instead of buying
cars or dresses, she rubbed
her nickels together.

You can, too. That's the
American Mythology. That you
will have all the tools you need. Merely
develop your education, physical health,
capital, attractiveness, capacity for happiness,
optimism, charity, and charisma. Try to write
a best-seller or breed roses. Invent.
Organize. Speak your peace.
Be brave and awake. Listen.

 

[StepStransky]

Don't let this make you paranoid.
Just let it sink in like microwaves;
let it pass on through. It's normal
to feel a little cooked.

Wonderful