Originally posted 2/7/2013.
I give a sorrow
opening. I
loose it on
a gap within. Soon come
ornery, tantrum, layabout and cry.
Going to victim this whole long day:
grow kudzu, a funeral bouquet
for neverending grief show.
Still, I got rocker hips,
roller hips, jazz groin and jazz lips:,
joy ends up somewhere
when pushed from head and heart.
Still, I end up one sad grinder.
End up bad into more bad sinking,
but still with one way
to set it off and hold it back — and so,
on to music. Still in the hole, I give
my dance, my bad, my deep
some resistance. Rhythm’s a big mole digging in
under the roots, a charged up winner
rubbling the dark; my earthly body
quakes cracking in the light. Whenever
I, frightened, shake fear, I gotta dance
my dance, my bad, my deep —
it’s my gotta happen.
Dark Matter 
February 13th, 2015 at 9:36 am
Going to victim this whole day……grow kudzu ( LOVE IT!)
(and joyless sex really just doesn’t do it …does it?)
rhythm’s a big mole digging in under the roots
it’s my gotta happen (When all else fails …..it’s my fail safe…)
As always, in awe of your ability to express human experience so succinctly from the inside out.
February 13th, 2015 at 9:44 am
Thank you.