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nat-lipstadtPoems
one more for five year old Ian he is the little boy, on an I-don't-want-to-go road trip, yet inside happily, pretense outward poutingly, yet he is nosed pressed straining onto window, so hard, it's window marked, stain leaving, absorbing, being absorbed by the fresh flowing of air currents of new scenery little boys of beauty, of beauty, what do they know? life is action figures, videos and toons, colors vivid but manufactured, daddy hanging them upside down, coloring books less than quaint, few museums bid then enter... how do they learn what needs remembering, celebrating... differentiating tween mundane profane and profound... some say there are pleasure chems, the brain releases when the San Fran sun contacts all flesh, when California coast surf beckons claiming splashing and attention demanding, when nature offers up mountain trails that insist one of any age climb her offerings, to make them "ours," if ever so briefly,. to be map marked upon cerebral tissues and leave the boy and the vistas neurally connected perpetually of these matters, I, no certainty possess, though I well recall my nose in that windowed position, the clarity of Atlantic Rockaway fresh salt breezes entering, being stored inside my five year old brain cloud, so it could be true what all the grandmothers claim! but this know with soul surety, there are few things more beautiful than a five year old boy, inhaling the passing scenery, redding his cheeks even more rosy... he, a painting, forever stored, summonable with a single blink of my mind's eye, perhaps this is how he will indeed learn too... May 16, 2015
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May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
little boys of beauty, of beauty, what do they know?
one more for five year old Ian he is the little boy, on an I-don't-want-to-go road trip, yet inside happily, pretense outward poutingly, yet he is nosed pressed straining onto window, so hard, it's window marked, stain leaving, absorbing, being absorbed by the fresh flowing of air currents of new scenery little boys of beauty, of beauty, what do they know? life is action figures, videos and toons, colors vivid but manufactured, daddy hanging them upside down, coloring books less than quaint, few museums bid then enter... how do they learn what needs remembering, celebrating... differentiating tween mundane profane and profound... some say there are pleasure chems, the brain releases when the San Fran sun contacts all flesh, when California coast surf beckons claiming splashing and attention demanding, when nature offers up mountain trails that insist one of any age climb her offerings, to make them "ours," if ever so briefly,. to be map marked upon cerebral tissues and leave the boy and the vistas neurally connected perpetually of these matters, I, no certainty possess, though I well recall my nose in that windowed position, the clarity of Atlantic Rockaway fresh salt breezes entering, being stored inside my five year old brain cloud, so it could be true what all the grandmothers claim! but this know with soul surety, there are few things more beautiful than a five year old boy, inhaling the passing scenery, redding his cheeks even more rosy... he, a painting, forever stored, summonable with a single blink of my mind's eye, perhaps this is how he will indeed learn too... May 16, 2015
Photo by Marsha Guggenheim http://www.guggenheimphotography.com/
nat-lipstadt
Written by
nat-lipstadt
99/M/NYC/Lippstadt/Kraków
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
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