I’m
hoping to get to where
I
have to be—without using
crescendo’s
descriptive
property
The
smells of traveling folk
irradiate
definition
procure
inhibitory realms
and
guide the soul to
where,
all’s cast unto pools
of
a tolerant breed
Mystics,
madmen, gypsy, seers of
romani
lore, clashing western
culture
with their crystalline torrents
of
adrenalin
Pulsing…
Eddy’s,
whirlwinds, the vortex
and
a single parasol—
swirling with purposeful nonchalance,
through
each element near and far,
stealing
pieces imprisoned in, every rotation
another
sensation floods your face, past the eyes,
through
internal trellises, residing
into
crescent shells, of a
Once
magnifying moment
in
unbridled pleasantry…
Sounds…depress
the catalytic
for
they can listen but not revel
in
the auditory repetitions, left to
Taste,
funnel cakes and honey-sex
on
display, waiting for your foreign
Caress,
unto this sport of touch that will never tell
of
Ticket
stubs—torn—
turnstiles,
in need
Of
lubrication—
still
frozen since 1969
For Poetics this week over at D'Verse, the uber-creative Claudia Schoenfeld is hosting, and presents us with the challenge of composing a piece surrounding Fun Fairs, or how they say it where she's from, Jahrmarkt, which has such a better ring, and lets face it, is such a cooler word than Fair, Fun Fair, or even Carnival. So head on over, take everything in, and dream back upon your own experiences and memories, and compose a Jahrmarkt poem of your own. But, please, make sure you link it up, so we can all live vicariously through your words.
