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Left Foot Poet Nov 2017
The Allusionists (Mary Winslow and Jeff Steir)

these two allusionists  **(not illusionists!)


composition is a criminal sentencing, a full-time sensitizing,
a never ending t/rue seeing, recalling, photography by word.

I am a career criminal.  I know.

these two retranslate by digging into word wells and
well hid storage closets under stairs so that we,
the not-in-attendance may envision their sightings with
two hands clutching, comprehending almost better than
the one who is actually there.  

for our version, the one they provide is,
coffee with cream,
scotch with a  beer chaser, tea with honey,
all to be, sipped slow, so
the hot frost on my the chest, infiltrating nostrils,
Vaporub-spreads slow and easy, brainward.  

the allusionists.

the habitual employers of this
specific filter,
(word weavers, I call them behind their backs),
weaving is not in my eternally planned skill set.  

I do so admire their tapestries
that guilt alone demands tribute and obeisance
and this poor imitation.  

I do so admire their tapestries.
November 25, 2017. 11:07 AM.
Lance L Shepherd Apr 2022
Hold onto this
Because it’s fleeting
Grip this by the wrist
Hold onto this
Trap this feeling
In the center of being torn apart
The shards of stars forming into other parts
It’s in your nature to label
To stress and destroy everything to become stable
To force and bend the ground to be level
You may never see it but it’s been upside down
A city trapped in a ghost town
Hold onto this feeling
Remember the purr and the tremble
The color and the bright
A black hole sits and waits
To retranslate and forget this site
Point your chin to the stars
Because what seems so far
Is breathing down your neck
The floor beneath is shifting and scheming
Ear drums bursting
Atoms are floating
Flaking away like skin cells in the light
Hold on to this
Because it’s mist
It’s chess
It’s gone

— The End —