I’m a fairly sociable guy in limited circumstances – let me do front of house for your spoke-word show & I’m in my element greeting people, chatting. Put me in a workshop situation & I’m pretty comfortable as well. Structure is key, I guess, for my comfort level.
Sit me at a table for a conference banquet & I’m probably the one with the least to say. I can strike up a conversation about the conference easily enough but that’s about it. People ask me things that I’ve talk about so much on my blog or in my writing that I’m really keen to go on & on about them. Talk to me about blogging & hey we can have a conversation.
But put me in a room of people in a house party & after about an hour I’m ready to flee. Conversations about me quickly turn into conversations about them. People ask me what I’m doing only to go on about how they are doing, wishing me well & moving on to someone else to tell the same things too. Sometimes they even come back to me starting to retell what they’ve told me.
I’m also not easy to draw into conversations about matters of topical interest – cats, dogs, children. Gay marriage – when I move that into the arena of assimilation vs acceptance they aren’t interested. Movies – I don’t go. Cult movies: hey I know about that but if they don’t know who Tura Satana is or know nothing about Russ Meyers & consider Donnie Darko a cult movie then we’re not talking the same language.
So I’m not a party animal. I strive to be interesting enough that I’m the guy you wish had stayed longer.
Angel Spoons
angel spoons
tap the soles of my feet
the spoons have stirred coffee
they are warm and sweet
the sugar flows up through me
sings a little song
under every word I speak
gives them a little tingle
of the dance of the clouds
of the java of hava a good day
hava a good time
become a friend of mine
as we can dance together
as angel spoons play
the way we see the world
the still the twirled
the rapid the desired
the quick of fire
sleek of steam cup
the licorice tango tangle
that wraps us black and red
on and off the bed
the zig zag zip that locks us
into a cascading tinkle of spoons
on the roof of our mouths
dangles off the eaves of the night
trapping and romancing
the streetlight
the ginger cat fragrance
of fresh brewed mood
the moon reflects so small
off the golden toe nails
of the jangling moments
angel spoons echo
through the time left
to get from the night to the day
they giggle with play
insinuate into the silence
with their small silver chime
I hear that faint near jingle
reflect darting glints
over the faces of the dancing people
suspended inches over the ground
swirling twirling shirts shirts
fleshy fragrant
breathing revolving
the happy tappy grace
angel spoons nudge us in circles
like coffee
warm sweet
wishing the well to one and all
sprawling calling
recalling the tickle in the blood
that means prayers have been answered
our soaring spirits aren’t sore footed
from glancing off the sun
to bridge the gap between
the tinkle and the ear
the click strum of spoons
on the palm
carries a message
drapes us back into the endless fold
where we can enjoy
angel spoons
tapping on the soles of our feet
June 8-9: attending: Capturing Fire 2016 –
November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo
Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet
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