constables squeeze crude
irradiated by bessie’s beard on paul’s right side
giant worms steal silver forks
while bats attack religious manics
on a space station
headed for the spoon
<restart process and program. enter a glowing door
made of breasts. because ellis is chaste. and chaste
liadia wraps roti over goat bone
when meteor takes off house-top
she taps a song on comp’ter keys
in rain of falling debris
and tom’s bones
—take apart sentence. adjust noun. delete precursor,
and remember. words are your sense of song. you
sing twice a year. and worms puke up cutlery. and
satellites stumble into craters. and tom falls prey to
procedure. and lipids boil. when men fall from stars—
“tulip, are you hearing that commotion? it’s a bloody
cackle of old people having sex. on a trash heap. with
<the connection cuts. float if floating important. vaccum
take us all. in a pocket of positive pressure, we live
to tell. a tale. or a centimetre that it is an inch.
back in sarge’s time, he kept a gun in a shed. in case
something dropped from clouds where commies
commiserate the loss of lenin’s bones>
“I see some old people humping. and they are screaming
that revolution. is. right here. in the wrinkles and folds.
growing cold old and bold. revolution starts with the elderly.
mark it. watch.”
tom digs shoe marks in splintered orbits
but asia in on fire
beneath his place in space
and science experiments on plant life
differ because he wants a smoke
takes a knife
gives himself a new face
lets in the vacuum
and the stardust
and plummets through the top of
and lands in a graveyard
and awakes the dead
who are old
and dying for revolution
18 thoughts on “A Foolish Wish of Improbable Proportions: How I Stopped Worrying About Space Debris”
aren’t we all eventually “heading for a spoon?” lol great line. sounds like something you would tell a child, the space station is heading for a spoon. course, you wouldn’t be able to tell them the rest of the poem…lol and WHY is Bessie’s beard only on Paul’s right side….so very Trentish. 🙂 so very good!
Ye gods! How many times I read this searching for a graceful umbrella-like meaning, only to have all different connotations pour!Not sure how to label this. Mastery, for sure. Yes, something I would be too intimidated to attempt I must say.
Pirate, I must admit to being sober during the moments when this came out. I read it again a few moments ago, and am pretty much at a loss. You are too kind, honestly.
Nice Trent, like a ride with Alice
Bruce, one occasionally is led to question your taste, and at times your sanity. Give me some samurai fiction, I beg you!
heh, the old people cracked me up! love your mind, Trent… awesome work.
Thanks Miriam. I’m not sure it makes much sense, frankly.
Yeah! I sailed over many seas of meanings -some very stormy -with the pirate on this.
You were sober when you write this???????? I find that hard to swallow. Maybe if I found tom’s bones + unicorn horn + eagle egg mixed in, I would be able to swallow that fact.
Ah Doc, I am trying to be a good boy you know.
Not everything that is a gem should make sense, should it? Bet you it did to me in one corner of that undescribable…unique you created there…like the asteroids burning in atmosphere unexpectedly. Leaving all and any stereotypes outside the door.
Well, I tried, but it was a mash of things I still don’t understand. Honestly, I’m a little horrified by the post, as it’s so all over the place. If perhaps a more sensible post is of use, try the newest one on my blog. It doesn’t really offer too many confusions I hope.
If it was up to me, I would have a look at it some other day. And maybe in a few after that. Might be wrong but have the feeling something more than familiar might appear through those layers are horrifying you right now. Off to your last post – thank you for the suggestion.
Good suggestion. Maybe in a day or two I will have a look again.
I do appreciate the words.
I love a man who can make no sense
with such superb fluidity and steaming intelligence
Wishing I could tap at the world of poetry with your skill, Poet. I replace skill with silliness!
well that’s funny… I don’t think I have much skill, just lots of feeling. I think the skill is in the heart of the reader, so if you feel it you get it, and that makes you extra interesting and highly skilful to me
You have a rather amazing way of turning words to your end. I’ll take that comment, but I’ll never not acknowledge the skill of your poetry and the magnificence of your soul. Never.