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.
great job, Ben!