fear

 

 

 

Fear.

The sexton that rings the church bell also digs the graves.

The person regarded exclusively as an object of sexual desire

gets old, readys themselves for burial with an open bodice

and sweetheart decolletage.

And the moon was beautiful last evening, sinking towards

setting, then setting.

 

Dad's ashes never reveals his inadequacies. The greatest part

of speech is the decerebrate incapacity of cerebral activity.

I fear people who can talk.

As a little boy, with Dad dead drunk beside me,

I wrote poems in my outer space

and used them as my distress in breathing.

I will share them, share them soon.

 

I walked each day to junior high school.

An older friend would always tell me not to

put that Jergens lotion on my ice face.

He died suddenly in 97 and the school, looted

by vandals, was finally torn down. There

was a reunion on the bare field last summer

where it use to stand. The summer, where each

day, was over 90 degrees.

I didn't attend.

 

Fear;

this morning, after the news goes off,

I will decide what my probabilities of todays

fear should be. Whether animal or statistical theory.

And after much consideration,

 

fear is

me.

 

Reviews

[Corset]

I have commenced the rocking, and the gasping breaths, as I reach for this fear that is you, I swallow hard and brace for the impact...the next few days are going to be a tailwind behind you. You are a force to be reckoned with, you are amazing, just remember, that, no matter what, you are perfect to me as you are my friend.

[Matthew Kult]

Hello Rushin,

Intriguing.

Always,

A.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

love this piece...all of the irony sqeezed out like the Jergen's lotion...and "i wrote poems in outer space"

i think i relate to that line...when i was a kid i never actually wrote poems literally, just in my imagination.

sometimes we just fear life in general... we worry that bad things will get worse and good things will disappear too fast.

i like the irony of the summer day...and about your friend...interesting...

you are a poet of many sides...and of fresh phrasing, always...a joy to read you.

jacob

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlande..]

I fell in love with this, each stanza, one of my children...
and I refuse to deny or accept the irony
it's decerebrate incapacity elludes me like a garter snake
a narrow fellow in the grass, as E.D. might say
I'm not real well read in either Author that the Emily
we know best mentioned, but I remember that title
giving me a stupid chuckle when I was in school

how I ended up a poet, I'll never know

if I can figure it out, I'll re-program that pong game for you in 3D
I might have to take a trip to Atlantis

anyone wanna go?

you are a master of masters, dana

well done

I'm smarter and a better person from having reading this

[Emily B]

a hint of dickinson in the beginning, and then a touch of Shakespeare's grave digger, that may only be my imagination. But this is a full, honest piece of work. One that lingers long as we work out what our own fears will be this day.

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

well said, Emily

[Emily B]

do you remember the poem about that dreams? three people dreamed their greatest fear on the same night and each woke up worrying over it the next morning, it happened here at the cafe and i pieced the story together into poetry, I'll have to go looking for that

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

no I do not remember that one, Emily..that sounds amazing..I would be sad if I missed that one. thank you

[Emily B]

I featured it :) but I'm sure you've read it.

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

crap memory :)...gonna look for it as soon I square away some business

[Emily B]

this one?

A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him,--did you not,
His notice sudden is.

The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.

He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,

Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun,--
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.

Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;

But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

well, that, too, yes

[Emily B]

:)

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

I think the separation's carried over...maybe I should ask during training, but I think I'll just drink coffee and talk about primer w/ Paul instead

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

but yeah, thank you both..it's been awesome unraveling this red carpet

[Emily B]

coffee is good

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

coffee is cool...cool coffee and warm beer, cause I'm odd