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ah-MEH- rrrrreeee – CA
……..America, he said
broken thoughts in broken English
this was circa 1957

That woman, she dreams that one.
And the Americans, they all dream.
The streets are lined with gold.

neh!
I think not …

She has no selvage, that one.

[referring again to the woman]

This was the furrier who lined his furs

[soft skins ripped from innocence]

with smooth, colorful, bright silk,
stitching the wild with the refined
in a relation strange and tortured.

© 2017, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; photo of red fox furs is copyrighted fair use

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THE WORDPLAY SHOP: books, tools and supplies for poets, writers and readers

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We continue with the current recommended read: On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century by Timothy Snyder. Left, right or center – American or not – it’s a must read.

LESSON FIFTEEN, Contribute to good causes:  “Be active in organizations, political or not, that express your own view of life Pick a charity or two and set up autopay. Then you will have made a ree choice that supports civil society and helps others to do good.” Prof. Snyder,  On Tyranny, Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century

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What’s it to me? …
A knotted and nasty old poet of introverted time
wearing five-dollar sweats
dressing in black on black like a fly
with silver earrings tinkling softly in the winter breeze
What’s it to me? …

A Madwoman, a Madonna, a Medusa
Traipsing neighborhood streets, city parks and country lanes
Nibbling on sharp yellow cheese and glossy red apples
Sitting down on some wayward curb to sigh in wonder at
noisy birds and children, wizened old men, whiskered grandmothers
Dogs walking their humans by the side of the road
Feral cats scratching out a living of pigeon stuffed with stale bread

Muttering, muttering, whispering, watching, writing
Writing long poems and short about what it was to be us
through clocked days trapped in pointless, punctilious youth
Enjoying now the wild, gnarly randomness of life
and the music of our dusty blue souls jingling as we walk …
What’s it to me? What’s it to this so lately untamable me?

© 2013, poem and illustration, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

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you could trace her travels around that house and yard
by a trail of lipstick-ringed cigarette butts and lost Bics ~

she’d painted a deep red outline with a slender brush
and tenderly she colored inside the lines with a lighter rose,
licking and pouting as she examined her artwork, the bright
bathroom light illuminating the central silky plumpness of
those two perfectly arched wings, reminiscent of
the airline logo of her once-upon-a-time employer . . .

Bon jour, Monsieur!
hair tossed, a provocative shoulder shrug

testing a flirt on no one in particular, aching for the days
when she didn’t need make-up to dare the whole world,
the days when her only war paint was her juicy raw youth

© 2013, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; Illustration ~ courtesy of morgueFile

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THE WORDPLAY SHOP: books, tools and supplies for poets, writers and readers