Poetry

Poetry: Edward Mycue

THREE POEMS FOR OUR TIME

Remembering Sinclair lewis I wrote this to connect with our depressing times through the distance screen.


1. CONSERVING MAIN STREET
It depends on what you are trying to conserve
You can react
You can remember
You can repeat
But the tree won’t grow.
You can save it
You can dry it
You can burn it
The tree is you
You can share it
You can preserve it
But it will not remain a living tree.
Polish it
Dust it
Worship it
It’s not going to breathe
Neither will you.
You have to let a green thing grow.

(C) Copyright Edward Mycue 2022.

2. A BLOCK-PARTY OF EXPRESSIONS
It comes to me that person’s minds have screen doors
that let what’s outside them flow in,
and they also ‘screen’ them.
They may get clogged or are simply
collectors of stray matter that remain.
Among those that remain are similar
to others that got caught in the meshes
on other occasions and that may be created
from the use of blocks of phrasings or
constructions that include:
…as if from…
….in dawn’s ire….
if only for this….
….as if it were….
These may or not be foundational.

(C) Copyright Edward Mycue 2022

3. MY KEYBOARD JUMPED AND TAPPED

“Harvest” is what I mean when I write “coffee to the people”
As the song from my youth intones “you can’t go back to Constantinople”
Tell that to Syria, Jordan, Palestine, Israel, Turkey, more in deed
Speaking colloquial Arabic’s and Egyptian’s so many variants growing.

It’s a wiggly wobbly bouncy bunch of speakings so far as the ear hears
And people feeling picked-on, abused, and abandoned every each day.
Chill is a word that seeps up, chill they say, and chill well: it is shaken.

I’m always learning new things to me that are soon forgotten drifting & they
have senses and senslessnesses too and more than “two” and they don’t lodge
deep enough now in the brain and in the body and skin cages (which are also
the brain: for I have experiences in input and retrievals from storage
systems having been over-filled and you have to dredge to get “the fully Incorporated‘ because a little like the dry spices go along way and enter strife territories.)

“You get moody“ my meditations tell me, perhaps over trusting intuitions. Institutions equal poetry appearing out out worthy: as learned forms, some verses. 

Copyright 2022 Edward Mycue.

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