There they are, weaving, braking, menacing their innocent way along the bad dream that is I-4. This highway that has more deaths per mile than any other interstate in the nation and it is under a decade-long face-lift. Wrinkles are being removed and crooked bones straightened. Even the locals find it hard to know where the lane lines are, as they text and apply make-up on their morning Orlando commute. But there they are; Tourists. Herds of them arrive every winter from every state and every part of the world. They are here for our World, Disney, that is. Land of Mickey and home of Harry (Potter – he and Ron and Hermione reside at Universal). So, as I was saying, there they are, weaving, braking, menacing, all in the left lane of the dreaded I-4. Weaving, you ask? That occurs when they spot the Central Casting building for the Magical World, which is, of course, right along I-4. We know them, these Tourists, they have licence plates from places where it is currently snowing and cold and bumper stickers that proclaim their undying allegiance to Epcot. That’s the place with the giant golf ball, in case you didn’t know. They have an event called Drinking Around the World. This car full of Tourists may have already been there for all of their weaving, breaking, menacing. Florida drivers are known for driving fast; really, really fast. It’s only because we value our lives and want to get quickly around this car full of Tourists.
I floor it and buzz-lightyear past them. Whew! Made it. Oh no! Look! Just ahead… it’s another one, only bigger! An RV, towing a small vehicle, complete with bike racks and coolers that are mostly strapped down. And what are they doing? Well, you know the routine.
natives garbed in coats travelers bikini clad locals travailing
Doing Double-Dutch jumping here today by writing a Quadrille for dVerse that uses the word ‘Cobble’ and also working from the Day 4 of 28 Days of Unreason. I felt like it was a good time to write a Silly Jilly; it’s been awhile. 🙂
I am hosting the 28 Days of Unreason for the 3rd year in which we write poetry in response to selected lines from poet, Jim Harrison. Everyone is welcome to jump in! Today’s line is, “Fear makes for good servants and bravery is fraudulent”from Vows.
he loved a linear girl unswerving in his gape-jawed puppy love
so easy to be stunned like tasering him with one look
in his stream of consciousness falling, fleeing those cliché arrows, aimed
by her apparatus of love to land just short of his path
to trudge through a flock of poison dart frogs singing with glee
for his one life the almosts and wish-it-were-so’s
those mean summer nightly chorus’s of want and yearning of
dreams playing music once more throttling back into his arms
of want and yearn intermittently broken and repaired
Kim at dVerse bids us write a Quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words) using the word “Rain.” Here in Florida we should be at the end of our Dry Season, a time we refer to as our Fire Season. Instead we are in a prolonged time of rain thanks to an unstable weather pattern that brings tropical moisture both day and night. There are no fires, including that rather large one that dominates the sky from dawn to dusk. 😉
The Challenge: Use a line from one book as your starting line and a line from another as your poem’s end-line.
I chose to use a line from my most recent read, A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles (highly recommend it!!) as my opener, but I edited it slightly. “It is funny what comes to one at night, he said after a moment.” Pg. 289
ROTHKO. What do you see? (Ken is about to respond—) Wait. Stand closer. You’ve got to get close. Let it pulsate. let it work on you. Closer. Too close. There. Let it spread out. Let it wrap its arms around you; let it embrace you, filling even your peripheral vision so nothing else exists or has ever existed or will ever exist. Let the picture do its work— but work with it. Meet it halfway for God’s sake! Lean forward, lean into it. engage with it! … Now, what do you see? — Wait, wait, wait! (He hurries and lowers the lighting a bit, then returns to Ken.) so, now, what do you see? — Be specific. No, be exact. Be exact — but sensitive. You understand? Be kind. Be a human being, that’s all I can say. Be a human being for once in your life! These pictures deserve compassion and they live or die in the eye of the sensitive viewer, they quicken only if the empathetic viewer will let them. That is what they cry out for. That is why they were created. That is what they deserve . . . Now . . What do you see? (Beat.)
The crux, the very kernel of poetry is the enigma of the inspiration
that mysterious thing we call our Muse
that grabs us by the shirt collar
demands we notate
transcribe these seeds
germinate these seeds
note the demands
refuse to launder the grimy shirt collar
out of superstition or deference to this thing we call our Muse
we die of hunger if we deny the enigma of the inspiration, the crux.
the words play us
the rules break us, define us
we learn them just to break them
stretch the limits, Jabberwocky our world
we are the artist, broken by our own
screaming, wild, feral selves
let the crazy child within
“Write poems that are not easy! Great poetry should require hard work by the poet; hard work by the interpreter!”