(a found poem)
I was a sprinter,
an old poem in need of revision;
too many straws, not enough scarecrows.
I remember the color of sorrow,
spilled on bar napkins,
Moses on the mountain,
Amble with me.
I found a storm raging, treasure
in jars of clay. I don’t know what I look like
when I’m angry.
We stand for the sending song.
I started making mermaids,
………with tangerine wings.
Prompted by poetic asides.
This is patched together from phrase fragments found in my current email inbox, besides one line from the fantastic book I just finished, Undressing the Moon (by t. greenwood): “I remember the color of sorrow, of sorcery, of sorry.”)
I must also give specific credit to mindlovemisery, a favorite poet’s website, for the line “too many straws, not enough scarecrows,” which was the title of her post today, as it came through to my email.
I love this: “in jars of clay. I don’t know what I look like
when I’m angry.”
Now I read the first two lines as, “I was a printer. An old poem…” I’m picturing you as a handwritten poem, not typed. A little farther down, I see, “too many raws.” I don’t know why, but my brain is telling me to lob off the esses and their companions at the beginnings of some words to get new words. The ones you’re hiding.
not enough are-crows
not enough arc-rows
not enough care-crows, car-see-ows
pilled/piled on bar napkins
I found an arm raging
I found an arm raging treasure
We and for the ending song
I arted … making mermaids, with tangerine wings
Well, you must correspond with pirates, or those who would like to send you on a pirate cruise!
I love the last two lines!