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The Instigation:
Edmund  Black, commenting on “weary weighted,”

I agree with Kim; This is poetry at its best :)“

<•>

both of you shush!

there is no “better” in poetry

mine yours theirs, alive or not,

just gasps tears and blood
whimsical smiles and isles
cuts and burns of pained revelations,
hidden in fog,
that words try to delete away,
through the shrouded mists of
human tissues,
unconstrained by the
bounded shape
of the human cell,
our first, our own
self-imposed jail

tissue, too,
baby soft, or,
purple beating majestic bruised blotches
by those weaklings whose
kindness never
fully developed;  
or old man mine whose
skin cells erodes, so poems and light
weary weighted, lightly flake off
for your “betterment”
mostly tho for worse

good humans all await,
in patientce lightly hidden,
residents of dark sunspots
in the glaring existence exposer
of the unlit lighthouse whose time will come

they get it

how we get there unimportant

get there

GET THERE

get there
that is the poetic
mission critical

no path best or style preferred-
no compare just, but,
any path that
lifts and elevates,
to the commonplace


the common place

where all costarred, universal,
where common is the temple mount
of highest praise, holy smoke rising,

a place that
that discloses and closes,
is scribed/described honestly as
a connective,
which is the simplest
successive

call my poems,
blessedly common!

that an honorable,
so gladly accepted
and
so much more meaning-full
than merely best or better



for that,
I’d gladly weep,
for no praise
ever been
bettered





8/2/18 406pm
on the jitney to my isle
the instigation: Edmund black › “weary weighted, I agree with Kim .... This is poetry at its best :)“
 Aug 2018 spysgrandson
L B
Stand-off
 Aug 2018 spysgrandson
L B
Katydids and fireflies have the levee tonight
Swat team held the day

There is peace now
and peeping neighbors
emptying horror
among themselves in whispers
left to wonder
‘bout the screaming and the barking
of earlier that day

“Put down your weapon and come out
with your hands up”

Again and again
the demand of surrender
Total
There is no other way

“Let them go!
Come out! come out with your hands up!
It will be okay”

…and he argues in his mind with the shame and loss
…and the shame and "No…it will not be okay"
He had hit her! Hit her with the Gun
again and again…with the gun
Of his demands
The gun of his power
to make her!
The gun of his despair
He had hit her
the dog is barking
His children scream!

“Put down the gun and come out
with your hands up!”

How many more times will they say it!
for all the neighbors to hear
on a loud speaker
Surrender!
in front of his children
Had she cheated?
Had he lost his job?
Could he lose any more to the screaming?
to the "junk"?
to the flashing lights?
to the window's smashing?
Fence run down?
Lobbing
canisters of tear gas
into the room's stinging eyes
where there is no room
where there is no time

"I would never hurt them!
You!
You know!"
"Let them go!"
"You left me!"

“Put down your weapon and come out
with your hands up!”

It is all too loud
It is all too much
as you put the gun against your temple and…
pull the trigger
This happened today-- two houses away.  I could hear it all and sometimes I feel this way.
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