Delights
You cannot say,"Tonight, I will write a poem."
Well, sir, tonight, I will write.
Always I see things,
And always I hear things,
But only sometimes I pin them down,
Bundle them into words,
Into splendid words,
Words like. . .
Like, Grin!
or, peanut butter M&Ms!
or, the liquid velvet of French horns,
Dripping like golden chocolate,
Oozing like caramel--
Caramel cuivre?
No, rather more like
Toffee cuivre,
Or hazelnut coffee cuivre--
A kick, eyebrows startled into jumping,
A brassified bray,
Wedging itself through the smoothness.
Also I snag myself on BIG words, words about being BIG:
Capacious,
Majestic,
Southview living space!
Dizzying churning clouds,
Eighteen rumbling tubas,
The tuning epicenter,
sending the grumbling tone across--
A dull roar flaming into shrill sparks, almost.
Tripping words, snickering words,
Joyous ones, crinkling into smiles,
Gurgling into laughter
A little too quick, perhaps,
And spewing soda or peanut fragments
Into the smiling air around us,
Wiggling words,
Or dancing ones too:
Jumping and leaping
And praising God
My heart is about to burst
My head is about to pop, and
Now that I'm dancing,
Who cares if I ever stop?
posted by whistler @ 4/13/2007 10:32:00 p.m.
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