Tag: International Poetry Month 2022

it feels as if death the only reward whether

for friends or strangers we've lost the appeal of 
a promise of years to come unaffected by 
momentary surprises you tool around town 
defying calls toward turmoil while most lie 
immersed in shallow panicked breaths skin itch 
tingles unattended it seems not to matter what 
language greets at birth the side of any road 
splits open scattering impotent seeds the drought 
now so prevalent we must accustom ourself to 
the limited volume of cessation five shot dead 
including probable head of household and how 
attracted authority figures are to the fatality of 
knees on back of necks only race a permissible 
excuse we watch as a parent walks the 
neighborhood carrying their growing child and 
responsibility living in an environment where 
vehicles required in order to run even short trips 
you were impressed learning how little they had 
in savings still equaled your yearly salary while 
several state governments lay claim upon all land 
access still preoccupied with the genitals of 
children no wonder we all feel a recoil under thin 
layers of flesh you notice their nipples harden 
whenever you finally decide to leave

that’s what can happen after spending months

framed in solitude when a crumb from sandwich 
startles as it hits floor every physical pleasure 
renounces presence how a page read 
disappears as quietly as it was brought to mind 
we team up with neighbors to solve a crisis of 
monetary valuation when the you vanishes 
along with any thought uttered to halt the 
displacement what to think when the crowd 
peopled by lost relatives friends peppered with 
occasional strangers pass as well in the natural 
putrefaction of oxygen deprived materiality two 
birds flattened in alley a few days ago now all 
but gone save for irregular damp spots 
evaporating in the warm daylight they remain 
confident to an extent not worrying about cloth 
labels poking out from under the seams fevers 
splayed separated by fluid shadows only 
sometimes does a letter repeat conjoined rested 
from anticipated coming fresh wounds or 
perhaps in candor words form an unknown 
source as if onward into a renewed terror

a pause between two stanzas a musical silence

flairs brightly back to surface ease under 
diversionary noise we roam the four small rooms 
as might be counted ignore bathing toilet room or 
you might rather enjoy the open fields of a library 
tying two into one larger room local artists walls 
doctored for pleasure they answer the call of 
anger jealousy impotence so more shot dead 
another one wears mesh mask as if thus 
illustrating their neighborly care earlier a young 
child flinches when spoken to reflects our facial 
reaction every morning when climbing out of bed 
seeing mirrored shallow tics or might it be a 
return to bearable odors of bleach disinfectant 
who can possibly imagine what lies hidden that 
compels such stubborn rampant busy dashes 
and apostrophes we just realized they'd joined in 
giving birth a name three or four years ago prior 
to the now ever present opportunity to face rarely 
unexpected death sentence you remind life has 
always been a losing hand of cards check and 
recalibrate the timing of regional locations 
somewhere as a walking pathway inarticulate 
refusal dizzy within new gnawing hunger intuition 
misguiding directionality seek dictionary advice 
their attempt at forestalling the deceit of sensual 
fantasy again improbable pause then leap into 
new noise habitation served up on plastic 
swimwear coal carrying train cars

monologic pendulum within invented diversity

over compensates the small group of seven or 
fewer in the warmth of shaded looks hidden 
under ignorant familiar colors when hair sparks 
envy or our dress surprises misremember 
height as being greater now gaze down upon 
fake dreams spread lotion on over washed hands 
form as kindness lacquer speckled cracking low 
humidity and softly sore nipple from earlier 
stimulation the addendum approaches from the 
north or east building for revitalization implosion 
fold within dry lawn and wilted flowers you 
pretend to hear the footsteps of a spider only to 
look up discover it dangling webbed to ceiling the 
end grows customary losing spread over the last 
fourteen months we interrupt to wash dishes 
silverware pour hot water over floorboards one 
still wallows in defeated romance commonality 
peppers the street with skid marks tomorrow 
inoculate from present foreboding separating 
allergic figures of speech awaiting the cliché of 
some other shoe dropping watch your age when 
nearby important adults transfix upon an over 
staying for sale signage as personal loss we 
wager outweighs others

to slow down when you feel already atrophied

not only by the isolation but rising rent the loss 
of unemployment checks even food stamps of 
little good turned down regularly they recover 
from heart attack have migrated from wheeled 
walker to single metal cane at that age when 
even nostalgia fails to temper despair almost 
seems the most regularly used word on this 
cloudy windy rain whispering day a love fest with 
your cat sitting sharing internet chores they take 
an extra day off for recovery from anguish 
needles and ink endorphins we remain so 
overwhelmed much yet remains to be done 
details of a poorly written description empty even 
of driving popular narratives finish coffee return 
to the slumbering apartment watch old cop show 
pretend it's a televised day off instead of the 
continued replay of bad news channel incinerate 
repetitious tattered worn out dreams our beard 
still grows whether liked or not the child wounds 
three early morning school day what to make of 
this drive to destroy maybe simple species defect 
had you more quickly read the marking slivers 
doubt might not have curled around the sound of 
pen on paper a dark sound of interrupting texts 
sent by unknown others you could care less 
about busy close contact rendering likenesses

©2022 gary lundy
All rights reserved

April in The BeZine Blog

• Coalesce—Stories at the Center of the Human Experience
  Erich Keyser
• Finding My Way
  Patrick Connors
• framed in solitude
  gary lundy
• Poems from Purpose
  Gary Beck
• just a thought & 2 more poems after April 26 6pm US EST
  Lonnie Monka