Blood Stained

On last seasonal piece:

Blood Stained

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you bleed I smile

I bleed you smile

we slither around in pools of blood

smeared white flesh 

glimpsed

in gradually clotted red browns

incarnadine couple

the blood stream carries us away

to the sea of candy apple red

smooth then rippled

we sink slowly into the sludge

seeking pudding for breakfast

tottering along scabbed shores

of idealized tissues

patterned lace across a windshield

when the car hit the pole 

the head hits the window

flecks of blood dance in the air

to settle in cunning trails

along a grassy lawn

on someone’s open-mouthed 

shocked face

into that open mouth

found new home in a new body

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the dainty dangling red dew

dripping off the overhead street light

the morning rain 

will pull blood to the earth

make for better roses next year

you just wait and see

it happens all the time

the undignified deal of war

bargains for blood

sacred weeping virgins

in dusty obscure orthodox churches

is that her blood 

his blood 

blood of the lamb

immaculate and sloppy

caked and flowing

we are in the the presence 

of the great bleeder

confessing the inability of science 

to stop the flow

of medicine to suture the wound

the inability of philosophy to cauterize

the challenge of where to flow

taking us along 

not for a ride

for we are the ride 

the tide

the blurred fingerprint 

on a rear view mirror

touched in the act

the tactile moment of it 

between our fingers

brought to a tongue

can these hands be licked clean

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The Keys To Sense of Purpose

Nothing To Lose

I was sure I left it there

it was there the last time I looked

I haven’t seen it

have you looked in here

have you looked anywhere 

or did you expect me to know

to keep an eye on things

without being asked

I don’t know where it is

I have more important things to do

no I didn’t move it

I didn’t see anyone take it

this is where I usually put it

I can’t leave the house without it

it can’t be replaced

there’s no reason for it to be moved

it has to be here always

it’s the perfect spot for it

it didn’t move itself

did it fall to the floor

is it under here

is it upstairs

did you even bring it with you

did you leave the house without it

you can always get a new one

it was time to move on

time to let go

of the hold of things

free yourself of objects

find a place

where there is nothing to lose

nothing to be looked for

nothing to be hidden

and everything

to be revealed

This piece is part list poem – various thoughts on misplacing something & usually not realizing until one is leaving, in a hurry but can’t got without it. I have a spot by my front door where I always put my keys, my sunglasses etc. Before heading out I have to make sure I have everything in my pockets or shoulder bag before I leave. Gone are the days of just putting a jacket & going somewhere.

 

By everything I mean phone, camera, coffee cards, credit cards, points cards, wallet (I no longer carry credit cards with my $), sometimes iPod, Kindle & something else, but I can’t remember what. If one of those items isn’t where I think I put it then I can’t leave without it. I change jackets and/or shoulder bags from day to day, so have to remember to transfer from one to the other.

 

Not too long ago I misplaced my Starbucks gold card. I searched every item of clothing I was wearing the last time I used it, shoulder bags were emptied, jacket pockets turned inside out, I checked the shop to see if I dropped it there. No where to be found. I went to the website to get a replacement but that process was endless & so I think I applied for a replacement but didn’t get even an auto-response so I must have done something wrong? 

The getting out a credit card out comes the Starbucks card stuck to it – I had tucked the card into a different part of the wallet than I usually do & never checked sufficiently the tiny tight compartment. It did mean I avoided Starbucks for a week or so, no big deal. The replacement never arrived, just as well, right.

Anyway back to this piece. It wavers between the list & a bit of a dialogue of being accused for losing whatever is lost – I didn’t see anyone take it. It take a slight philosophic turn with ‘free yourself of objects’ – to free myself of Starbucks wouldn’t be such a big thing. It delves into the mystic for the ending. What we can’t find may not be hidden or lost. 


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee at Capturing Fire 2020 – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet