Read
Shakespeare every day. Pray to the gods
of
appetite
for sustenance. Grant favours to all who
ask.
Obey
thy heart, carefully. Stay true. Observe the
clouds
as they pass overhead. Let the rains
rain
down
on thy soul (thy soul is thy body is thy mind
is
thy heart). Be strong, be nice. Don’t go out with-
out
your hat and sunglasses, or vice versa, your
slickers. ‘It’s the final countdown’ so count down
backwards
from one hundred and don’t think of
beer
bottles or walls or where you left off last time
or
what it’s going to be like once the bus arrives
because
then none of this matters anymore and
is
lost to infinity, which is whole lot. If
you look
back,
you’re toast, burnt to a crisp in the spot you
pivoted
because you can’t go forward if you’re
looking
back unless you’re walking backwards but
then
you can’t see where you’re going and you
may
stumble and fall and hit your head.
You’ll
be prone, face up, watching clouds go by, sun
shining
directly in your eyes which if you don’t
close
them and stare will make you go blind so
close
them, or, rather, don’t look back in the first
place. Or, if you please, stop, turn around, look
for
a while, then turn around and proceed. You’ll
have
had your look and you may contemplate it
but
you’ll be headed forward “with eyes wide
open”
(Tempest). Don’t forget your
sunglasses
and
hat, or, alternatively, your slickers. Wear
good
shoewear every day.
Equality of Day
Through the grid, it’s green and
blue. Iggy wants
coffee and is making a scene because of
far too
much mischief. Toes point skyward but everything
is held down by the ceiling. A whole lot of heat
is trapped up there between the interior
and the
exterior.
There’s no theme. There are
themes
but they emerge over time. You see it’s a process
which may or may not end in products. There’s
much waste. Much, much waste. Some one,
many ones are going down. Some are lost. What
does come forth is so lucky it’s beat the
house odds.
The bells are ringing. It’s better than enlightenment.
It’s alive. That’s your name. But you already knew
that.
You were already there and none of us
would've been here without you. Equality of awe
in the equality of day.
They Jump
There’s water in the air that’s blowing
around.
The shades are drawn down to temper the
light.
Once you draw them down, there’s a strip
of
green that marks the room, the room where
we
dwell in the evening, all night, and into
the morn-
ing.
Rooms carry us through. Then we
cross their
thresholds to other rooms, passageways,
and doors
to the outside. More doors. More passageways.
More rooms. Many rooms. Many, many, rooms.
There’s a place for you that’s been
prepared. You
can pick: this one or that one, which one
would
you prefer? It’s someone else’s house but we’re
staying here. We’re taking care of their dogs, and
they like it. We could take them to our house, but
it’s just pandemonium.
They
jump on our bed
They
jump on our bed
They
jump
They
jump
They
jump on our bed (3x)
It’s better here – see how big it
is? Would you
like some dessert? We have cookie or key lime
pie, but the cookie is for you to
take with you.
Would you like half a key lime or a
whole? They
are very small. Tom and I can split one. See I
already started mine earlier.
Benjamin
Bennett-Carpenter, PhD, MA, teaches at a public university in North America and
consults/coaches at Sollars & Associates and independently.
Bennett-Carpenter is the author of Death in Documentaries (Brill)
and Explaining Jesus (Rowman & Littlefield). His
poems have appeared in Superpresent, Book of Matches, and the Kitchen
Table Quarterly. He co-edits Cruel Garters, a
contemporary poetry publication.
No comments:
Post a Comment