Sunday, January 16, 2011

Don’t Haul Me to the Dump Yet


The Totalfeckineejit's world-famous Poetry Bus trundles around the continents today as if the Master himself had the controls. Why, yes indeedie, he does!

He, Master of the World's Greatest Blog, Master of the World's Darkest Verse, has set forth a challenge most odd. "Git down wit' yore bad self and tell us who ya be." (I'm paraphrasing)

So if you don't like sentimental hogwash, hie thee over to the Eejit's blog where several brilliant anti-arty-farty types can be tracked down.


Don’t Haul Me to the Dump Yet

I am a breath in a garbage can
restrained
by the lid
hovering over the debris half-filling the can
half-filling the can! Optimism floats
in the molecules of breath, my elemental life
contained
in a paper sack
from a fast-food joint, twisted closed
and disposed of here
hovering over the debris half-filling the can.
Here is the map of my scars
wadded up but still it charts
the web of
red-veined
highways, crosswise roadways that led me
to this half-full garbage can.
Here desiccated flowers prove
my journey passed through gardens
and thus not all was lost
but much
remained
nor is it garbage, the debris
half-filling the can.
Girdles have retired here, napping
with tie-dyed shirts and platform shoes
dried red teardrops on Waterford crystal
the first night alone in my first house
Here Thoreau still beats his drum
Neruda murmurs love songs in coffee-
stained
books.
I breathe. I float.
I gain
more filling.



20 comments:

Dianne said...

I smell you!

(taken from the film -my current fav- Avatar- "I SEE You"

we love unconditionally.
Di

TechnoBabe said...

The can half full tells me what kind of person you are. Nice trip down memory lane with mention of platform shoes and things of a time gone by.

izzy said...

Oh gain, we do ! refuse collected- hmmm-
I am glad you were the breath in this-
and above the remains...Very interesting!
thanks.

Magpie said...

Chris!! This was awesome! I love it truly.

Rachel Fox said...

It can be a dirty business looking at ourselves up close!
x

Jess Mistress of Mischief said...

very cool!

Love the succulent plants too!!! So cool to see such fat juicy green growing in such rocky sandy soil!

120 Socks said...

'Neruda murmurs love songs in coffee-stained books.I breathe. I float.I gain.' Loved the ending! You can find lots of good stuff hal-filling the can!

Karen said...

And what saves us is what has built our mound.

I love the perspective here and that killer last line. Perfect!

The Bug said...

Half-full - yes we are are - there's no almost ready for the dump for us!

Andrew said...

I do so love your poetry! I feel like I really get what you are saying.

Kristin H. said...

"Neruda murmurs love songs in coffee-
stained books."

Perfect.

e said...

Lovely...trash must be a theme today...

Kim A. said...

A garbage can or a time capsule that is really smelly. :-D We all have garbage but you make it seem so intimate and revealing. Luv it.

♥namaste♥

Woman in a Window said...

Love the repetition. Almost expected it at the end instead of I gain. But therein lies the meat of ya, ye eternal optimist of grime and grit! You smell pretty to me.

xo
erin

Nana Jo said...

"Here Thoreau still beats his drum
Neruda murmurs love songs in coffee-
stained books."

Wonderful line. I just want to haul myself right there.

Syd said...

I like that some of these things have retired. Nice memories on some of these.

Jinksy said...

Optimism floats
in the molecules of breath

And that's what keeps us going!

Niamh B said...

really dense poem, and i mean that in a good, wow so rich with imagery, kind of way.
very evocative

Totalfeckineejit said...

All deadly Chris, but this bit is just great!

dried red teardrops on Waterford crystal
the first night alone in my first house
Here Thoreau still beats his drum
Neruda murmurs love songs in coffee-
stained
books.
I breathe. I float.
I gain.

A little poem in itself. Delicious!

Sheryl Eddins said...

Well now, Ms. Weigandt, I will just tell you what I think. When did I not? Freshly ground coffee. God love it, I offered you something of true value after all. Wonderful poetin' this is. sse

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