Arc

Arc

A Poem by h d e rushin

No,
not the papyrus cradle of Noah. Not the aggregate assault of all the animals in the kingdom. Not heaven
where dad is in his shirt sleeve's or Janae releasing to her province beauty and ceremony. Not the prism of a
powdered sky under the "rainbow covenant" where an old man cyphers and counts like slaves on ships heading
to South Carolina. But two of each unclean land animal; the serenade of the astral slang of a young boy in a hoodie
with his pants without a belt hanging low on his hips with slits in his eyebrows and a tattoo of a tear falling on 
his cheek. Dear reader: We are (all of us) in  a pot of dreams without prophets and antidotes for heartache. Large
hills are in the background as we deliver to each other, our semicircle cheap city blues no matter how it comes. Whether by  a poet in
a rumpled scarf or a trans woman of color throwing bricks at cops, it will be raining. Possibly. It will be dark. Probably. And
in this torment, someone's child is a soldier in a cartoon. In orbit. In shoes without socks. In no shoes.  In someone's
agreed upon synonyms for racism where all, even the unborn, will be delivered like triangular guitar licks on an
Albert King flying V. As the weeping failures that hang like loose cotton from us. Person. Default. Ownership. Love.
Even Trump in his sheikdom. No one. Not Melania in her salt bath, or Ivanka in the chestnut sea. Not Jared in his arched eyebrows. Not the moon confined to the cows who moo at passing lightning strikes. No one. But us/ reproduced to each half-
smothered exedra; the masonry of our own small illustrative personhood(s). But the bagman on the corner sells his weed
laced with fentanyl or his crystal meth laced with battery acid; both the palisades for our teenage daughters. That lure
your child head first into the bony moon disc of total destruction.. And when you are equipped with nothing more than a jacket for warmth in the frigid, hardened night and the cenotaph erected out of snow and ice is your only reflection. I know you. And you know that I, and seven pairs of each clean animal, they wrote, have been counted by some totally unkept old man in a wooden boat.
Yeah right!

© 2021 h d e rushin


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"Dear reader: We are (all of us) in a pot of dreams without prophets and antidotes for heartache. Large
hills are in the background as we deliver to each other, our semicircle cheap city blues no matter how it comes. Whether by a poet in
a rumpled scarf or a trans woman of color throwing bricks at cops, it will be raining. "
I cannot attempt to review this, but I feel it deeply. Righteous words. Enough said- other than brava....

Posted 1 Month Ago


h d e rushin

1 Month Ago

thank you dearest for those kind words.....dana
Annette Pisano-Higley

1 Month Ago

You are very welcome for praise so well-deserved. Stay safe and well.:))
I haven't had a gasp and a chuckle like that from the ending of a poem in a very long time! I met a young author from the ghetto this morning his reflections were stunning like yours I instantly recognized his situational Alexithymia and yet in his penning you could hear his cry however shaded it the view was portrayed when you know it, you know... it! I became an instant fan just like I did with your pen a few years back and of course, I still am:)

Posted 1 Month Ago


h d e rushin

1 Month Ago

I have to give up growling. It's so unbecoming . But it supplies unwilling, literary hacks like myse.. read more
filled with your ever sharpening social commentary .. vivid creative imagery and personifications .. shards of history and a big swing at hypocrisy, inequality and social injustice ... however ... a bit political without need ... balance h d .... balance and respect for both sides of this coin ... peace and love my friend .. love always :)
E.

Posted 1 Month Ago


h d e rushin

1 Month Ago

thank you love....and as usual, you are correct as hell. balance is the thing i'm working on. dana
Einstein Noodle

1 Month Ago

as we all need to .. it can be difficult when passions turn to brutality ... so glad i know you here.. read more
Interesting poem about the cruel world today. There certainly are horrible stuff happening today.

Posted 1 Month Ago


h d e rushin

1 Month Ago

beautiful words jungLee....thanks for stopping by...dana
JungLee

1 Month Ago

Thanks. you are welcome
You have me waiting for the dove and the olive leaf.
One day... this too... even Jared's eyebrows... will recede.

Posted 1 Month Ago


h d e rushin

1 Month Ago

thanks love.....even the weak impersonate the strong. Thanks for your vision....dana
Noah was too pragmatic to be a poet. But had Noah known about the power of words the world would be different now

Posted 1 Month Ago


h d e rushin

1 Month Ago

but I think he did know the power of organization. And poetry is about organization. Thank you deare.. read more
Oh my, the flood, Noah, Mt. Ararat (I believe it was)
Fake news---all fake news.
There were no animals of each species, just an old man dying of covid, and the world around him shutting down, and his world shutting down.
And the arc containing 2 lies of each kind. Will there be room on that arc for politicians?
Maybe when a cow actually does jump over the moon.
Fascinating write with so many hardcore truths.
j.

Posted 1 Month Ago


h d e rushin

1 Month Ago

the new "Arc" the one determined by membership or wealth will be the savior of the species according.. read more

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Added on February 22, 2021
Last Updated on March 16, 2021

Author

h d e rushin
h d e rushin

detroit, MI



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black american poet living in detroit. more..

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I've. I've.

A Poem by h d e rushin



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