Author: asoulinprogress

dying static hum

Thunder rumbles through the house shaking loose windows
the back door slams open and Louis C.K. is slammed down
into a ring-shaped dampening field in a desert night.

A lanky trickster glides out of the shadows
and strokes the cylinder until it rings pure
in the tones of observance the comic twitches.

A swarm of fairy folk swirl overhead,
in its wake orbs dance and fall and merge
lullabies and dusty magic explode
into a nebulous secret message
the comic pounds silently on his cell

The trickster addresses the audience,
“You know what the comedian’s fear is”
“Hecklers!” shout the audience, “writer’s block!”
“No…” says the expressionless host,
“it’s playing to a dead room.”

dying static hum

old (#2.x)

A stunned comedian appears in the dampening field. The flat trickster comes forward and addresses the audience.

“You know what the comedian’s fear is.”
“Hecklers!”, comes the reply, “or, writer’s block!”
“No…”, the trickster says, still expressionless,
“it’s playing to a dead room.”
With perhaps a smile, the trickster points to the swarm

of fairy folk swirling overhead. They sing hypnotic lullabies, and when the land trembles with song they set about crop dusting the field with magic.

In the swarm’s wake orbs dance and fall and merge into fuzzy suggestions. At crescendo the sparkling nebula explodes revealing the secret message.

Night falls black and silent.

Nature screams acknowledgment!

It’s the difference between trying to shake loose the truth,
or documenting the location.
Everything is.

Poetry behaves in accordance to all known natural laws. That’s good, that works, and that can help us. Where we get into trouble though is the vehicle of poetry is the mind.

Take a deep sigh and shake it off,
it turns out to be a simple decision,
one that the most people fall into almost naturally.

In the case of poetry the choice is between flagellation and breathing. This decision is usually informed by ideology, in your case flip a coin.

it’s its nature

If it’s not how you remembered it, it has probably changed. Ally, take heed! This is a living site. I will change a poem on the inhale and again on the exhale.

The poem I’m currently breathing is dying static hum. At the end if the process, when it’s walking in its own two feet or when I’m off of mine, whichever comes first, I’ll post select versions.