-Peter Ciccariello
On 9/26/06, Allen Bramhall <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
the sun wants you to give up. the sun has this thing, go on roof for a
moment to gleam some morning. also the sun tops trees for this
spectacle, again for a moment. what do you do, then? lay down on a
pronoun, perhaps. the sun needs more room than do you. that's a simple
point to understand. look at the sun: it's all fiery and real. you stand
on things and wait. the sun does all the work. you provide no trees or
rivers, don't even mention oceans. you only eat fish, and cows, and
carrots, and things. your kind of poem lets things stay there, slightly.
the sun gets puffy and hot and takes eons, eons you can't even believe
in. substitute yellow for your ideas, the sun still wins. you struggle
because you can't be green, and winter's greyness forces you to populate
the world. have you ever heard of sarcasm? because the sun really does
love you. next time you meet a stray mountaintop, and go all yellow
pinkish purplish blue, let the sun know. or hop to treetops with this
morning energy. or press across western expanse with this dizzying array
of natural spectrum. do these things, and even meanwhile heat up planets
and all local wonderment. try it just once, do it, then you win the job.
--
Image - http://invisiblenotes.blogspot.com/
Word -http://poemsfromprovidence.blogspot.com/
Photography -http://uncommonvision.blogspot.com/
