That weren't no DJ, that was hazy cosmic jive

Hot lamb! It’s time to do poems

As I write, Polygonic’s now finishing up its 20th week online, which is the age some babies start teething. So, look out! My moaning and wailing can only get worse.

Coincidentally, I’m happy to note we’ve passed 3,000 hits this week. Merci buckets 🙂

I’m a man of fierce tradition, and so while a couple of days late, I’m commemorating the milestone as usual with a photo of my dinner. I’ve developed a recent dependence on fish cakes, but thankfully I was able to burst out of that breaded cage on Thursday when I did a lamb steak. Check it peeps – marinaded in OJ, lemons, cumin and powderednaga jolokia peppers (holy mother), then grilled. Joined on the plate are roasted mushrooms, spinach and garlic, and if you squint you can also see some peas. Wowsers.

And I’ll tell you something. Maybe it was the phase of moon, or something about those bloomin’ hot peppers, but Thursday night led me away from the normal desire to bloggify. It even led me away from my attempts at fiction. No, I entered instead into a surreal dreamscape of free-form poetry. I was loose, like a soul loosened. Like a loosened lock. I was full of metaphor and simile, as if I were a full glass, or some other type of full thing.

I will share with you the fruits of my journey into the post-sub-id here below. I can’t promise you this will be the last of its kind. Enjoy…

“The Fursting”

light rain tinkles on umbrellas, unfurled.
squirrels have none
is that why they cry?
eat your nuts
suck it up

green is my heart
like a verdant field
resplendent farm in harvest
a heart-growing farm
livers too
kinda scary

owlets warble in derelict barns
i smell a barbecue
how distracting

bubble, river! torrent, rage, flow o’er jostling pebbles
and tires
why are there tires in rivers
do they like it
having a bath
I would

Thank you

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November 2010

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