hail to—
a crowd
croons
wondering
about
weather
the world
will stick
to its guns
or keep up
with the
time
of pop
songs &
party Qs
like what
would you
do on yr
deserted
island
state
the obvious
beside
yrself or
is civil war
peace
w/ God
bc yr
surrounded
oceanic-ally
became
Ordinary
time
the victim
of radios
words
of wisdom
locked down
in studio
hell
is deserted
& wanting
to be
spoken to
windbag
spills its gust
out
on air
taken out
of me
sails, sz
the wind
k.o.-ed
of me
the island
I stood alone
bc I had to
no other
choice
sz the chief
reason
for wanting
to be
part of
somthin
bigger
‘sides
shout out
It is possible I never learned the names of birds in order to discover the bird of peace, the bird of paradise, the bird of the soul, the bird of desire. It is possible I avoided learning the names of composers and their music to better [listen to it] as an ocean. It may be I have not learned the dates of history in order to reach the essence of timelessness. It may be I never learned geography the better to map my own routes and discover my own lands. The unknown was my compass. The unknown was my encyclopedia. The unnamed was my science and progress.
Is in E-Ratio’s 17th isssue!
Link to the poem on my page: Communication Breakdown
Two of my poems,
To the governing body— and
Riptide
Were published in ditch, journal today. Check it out: http://www.ditchpoetry.com/mjgette.htm
at attn:
stated
with regret
-sion, dont
let the world
stand
in yr way—
like a sea
of admirers
kept at bay
& in the hour
of yr desert
-ion you lost
patience
& flooded
the damned
landscape, re-built
for re-creation
*
water, a weapon
of the weather
—ed.,
fills in
the lacunae
of reservations
the lake
stock-still
& current-less
the deluge
-sion of armistice
is skin deep
you tell yrself
as you run
the river
run-down
enough
to step in
twice: I swear
there was
a beholder
making eyes
& waves
around here
somewhere
believe me—
*
man-made
articles
of good faith
& placidity
leave
something
to be desired
what if I poured
out my heart
& soul
& wanted
what was left
to be
nationally protected
& if drained
may lay bare
the peace
you seek
in the form
of what was—
*
motoring through
the waters
full of fish
stories shipped
-in for you
the messenger
says
he wants
to hide you
in his apocrypha
(but
the motor
drowns him
& the Echo
out)
*
despite
the intimacy
achieved
through words
you will still
never know
what it is
to be
another person
but will live
like you leave
no man
to wonder
alone
or will get deserted
& build a lake
to fulfill
the fiat
that nothing
is as bad
as it seems
b/c beauty
is on the inside
(or in the eyes
of g.d.)—ed.,
or is what you get
after progress
-sion from gills
to dynamite blast
I cried—I can’t
hear you, rsvp
is the hook
& line
sang
by invasives
digging at
the water to will
itself another way
& after all
the rain
fishers
of men
prodded bodies
that did not belong
& where do you—
