3 Poems

Futurepoem #1

One Fine Day

not too long from now

our world,

on its endless parade of change,

its forever forward fall,

will yield its next miracle.

From the measured womb of science

and some mutant chaos-seed

VOILA! EuREkA!

A talking dog.

The prophecy of 10,000 tales

now here this priceless treasure unearthed

she comes to me,

muzzle soft as Irish moss, speaking gruffly

“Ben,”

“Yes, my true companion, my gentle-eyed darling?”

“I shat the couch”

and, spray bottle in hand, I watch her scamper off,

thumbless, until the kibble clinks heavy in the bowl.

Neighborhood

Look! I’d say, especially to

a child.

things can’t be that bad.

Not with the way these flowers keep brushing

the air blue

roots pullnup color like they’re

juicing the world.

And they don’t need to be that good either,

things,

no, just clear seen.

So look at em’ again, kid

them woods, the concrete sprayed and spat upon

and the humans growing out of every which/where!

Must be our neighborhood

and there, our home

and this earth, shaking

same as it’s always done.

Untitled ( How Does it Feel?)

When The Great musician D’Angelo died

his death struck the world, -like a mallet.

The whole place rang out

overtones whistling through a hundred million speakers, I bet.

I was one

plucking out his tune, saying goodbye to The Living Man

and thinking back on my life too.

Some people wrote about him, a few said

“he taught us how to feel music”

I didn’t like that.

No one can teach you how to feel.

What is clear

Is how he felt music

and if being an artist is a job,

I guess thats it.

He can more safely be a myth now

which is mostly what he was to me anyway

haunted eyes looking off camera through

the cigarette’s smoke

so I hope they teach in the Music Schools

Along with his lines and the space in his time

that we’re all playing with something

that can’t be controlled.