dogtrax

Items in the Magic Box:

1guitar 2saxophone 3pencil 4notepad 5coffee cup 6flowers 7comic book 8newspaper 9banana 10tuner

Opening up a can of tuner guitar, though, the banana saxophone sounds increasingly odd; just jotting ideas down in the gutter of the newspaper and reading only comics, remixing Archie in a notebook; Creativity, blooming like a flowers in a coffee cup

for OpenWrite

You are still there,

wearing the limbs of the Weeping Willow as a hat or headdress or hair, like magic from the book we looked at together as the sun set,

and when your mom, first, and then my dad, called us in for dinner, leaves fading at dusk, both of us shouted: not yet! not yet! not yet!

#youareherepoetry

Listen: https://sodaphonic.com/audio/6iL7zE9DONUljXg0jNhI

#Daring to be #Original, but still #Gathering #Time to #Rehearse with #A sa#Xophone

for OpenWrite

Bad things may happen -

the morning the sump pump stops working, all you think of is Noah and the Ark

the afternoon the 15-year old car starts failing, all you think of are wagons with horses

the night the television kicks the bucket, all you think of are story-lines on pause

Continue on; this too shall pass

for OpenWrite

Westerly, of your Easterly, winds bringing in Spring's new dirt artwork

for Algot

Weave me into patterns - intricate by design

I am thread in song in story in inked poetic verse

and where your words intersect with mine

We make love beneath the falling stars – our own universe

Nagging doubts

about nearly everything, lingers as a voice

singing cacophony -

Cast about for reassurance;

this world always get better than it seems

A winter, waning, brings spring mud, a seasonal reason to hate dirt

Eyes raised, in wonder; the clear blue sky booms, then shakes with distant thunder

I’m runnin’ out of luck, sings Isbell, and the parking lots are packed ..

— from 'Just as the Darkness Got Very Dark / Another Data Point' by Erika Meitner https://poets.org/poem/just-darkness-got-very-dark-another-data-point

but I've got my windows cracked, better to hear his voice, the sound of someone else's blues

I'm watching doors open, then slam shut, the rhythm of ritual; in here, it's only a guitar,

those six strings of his singing a song of heartbreak, a story of yearning