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The first time I saw Los Angeles,
it was after midnight.
Descending from Cajon pass and
entering the chaos of light and
the formless poetry of traffic,
I thought of Ezra Pound’s line from near the end of the Cantos:
“I cannot make it cohere.”
“It” is the most important word in that sentence.
In language we can conjure wholes too big for us to comprehend.
Push hard enough, and names fade and pronouns are all we have left.
So what is this place?
#urbansprawl #citylights
 Apr 2017 the Sandman
Sjr1000
The Navigator stands
at the top of the hill,
a spotlight illuminating the fog,
looking for a direction.

The stars are gone,
another moonless night,
all he has is his intuition
and questionable insight.

And so the dance of change begins

Moving outward
while moving in

Like a blind man at a drive through atm,
wondering how he got there,
listening for a sparkle
looking for an animal spirit in the dark.

There are cliffs and caverns
sinkholes and canyons
along the way

He's been known to fall
and rise again -
while heading towards the river

The Navigator, he is an expert
on moving in the darkness
looking for that one flash
our lives on display

The Navigator, he knows the signs,
sometimes right sometimes wrong

The paths have many directions to follow
But with the first step
all other paths
fade away.

Decisions are made

The Navigator, he has his day,
his way.
 Apr 2017 the Sandman
Helen
When all that is left
is feeling hurt
When it's the only song
you have ever learned
when it's the only tune
you have ever heard

Can you let it go?

Someone once said to me
Let it go, let them free
but they come back,
can't you see?

Should I let them go?

When I let them go
They still follow me
I tried to free them
but can't you see?

They came back to me

and I can't let them go

Oh no,
Oh no!

I won't let them go

Oh no

I won't

Let them go, let them go

Oh no...

When I'm the only light
they have ever known
The only place
they ever called home
When I'm the one
they miss the most

**I won't let them go
I miss my Son so much...
 Apr 2017 the Sandman
Jeremy Bean
I said I'd go through hell for you
And that's just where I went
to return and find you gone
After my sentence was spent
Who was right?
Who was wrong?
I guess I'll never know
As I carry with me
That journey down below.
at times
we write out verses in a rush
    what we are feeling
believing this is poetry

we may do well to keep in our mind
how the grandfather of romantic poetry
defined his writing at the time

    powerful feelings
    recollected in tranquility

which means,
    in short
that just to let it all hang out

    is not poetic

only when given shape
by rhyme rhythm or meter

we recognize that personal experience
can be an image of much more

    an effort of how we admire
    the wish to articulate human desire
The "grandfather" I refer to is William Wordsworth. in his "Preface" to the LYRICAL BALLADS, the programmatic anthology for then new Romantic poetry.
 Apr 2017 the Sandman
Jeremy Bean
I would rather pull my teeth
than bite my tongue.
 Apr 2017 the Sandman
Sjr1000
Living at hard angles,
the hemophilac in the razor blade factory
a diabetic making chocolate,
the alcoholic cooking with vanilla

A car running out of oil
in the great Mojave Desert
broke down,
while heading to Paradise, Nevada

Life at hard angles,
hard to get started
hard to get around

Rent gas water, electric insurance garbage,
car needs tires, internet phone
food
whose ever screaming the loudest
bank accounts have been known to go to zero

Cry all night

We're going to hold on to each other tight
it's all temporary
Even when you're sleeping hard
living at hard angles.
The rooks
Waddling
Up the roof tiles
Like drunken men

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2017.
10Words.
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