I've been doing NaPoWriMo, which leads to lots of not-necessarily-good
material. But here are two, one quite like my usual:
It's Not You
What you read in these lines
is not you. A kestrel takes
a sparrow from the garden.
Neither of them is you.
The crudely carved bowl
on the pine shelf represents
nothing; not you, not the poet,
not the cruelty of love.
It is just a bowl on a shelf.
The tangled blackberry bush,
the arrogant crow, the dead
snake on the asphalt
have nothing to do with you,
your life, your pain. They
simply fell into the poet’s gaze
and migrated to the page.
They mean nothing, nothing
at all. They are not about you.
And one not at all like my usual:
This Is Not A Poem
He uses his post-post-modern perspective
to deconstruct the new aesthetic. It’s no longer
about gender; it’s about synapses. Her emotions
are binary, randomly generated. He lights her heart
afire with disposable flame. Ablaze, she lifts
her arms and twirls like a figure skater. The ashes
shape themselves into an egg. All his friends
are virtual. These lines cast off in multiple, nested
dimensions. Black holes are not the only voracious
things in this universe. Parentage becomes obscure.
What is eaten changes places with that which eats.
Look into the whale’s eye. Each day she becomes
a new thing, resurrected from dead stars. His edges
are amorphous. All boundaries are permeable. *E
*approximates *MC2*. Motionless, we move. It all
depends on where you stand. Stand somewhere.
--
sharon brogan
http://www.sbpoet.com
http://www.sbpoet.net
http://smallpoems.sbpoet.net
406.578.1788
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