(for Shawna)
..
Watch out,
the hoes have got it
in spades, shoveling
all this (b)itter (s)trange
soup, stooping to re
-bury their own bones.
We’re fin
-ally figuring out how to
(b)rake up the chaff,
collect the scattered (s)hells
of ourselves from the field,
the beach.
Play the ominious
music, baby. We’ve got
a part to play, a way
to turn crimson water
into indigo ink, hang
up our hammer(head)s,
………………..and play.
…
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Hee hee. I’m downright giddy over this one. 🙂 I love all that BS woven throughout. That’s exactly what most of … everything … is! So why not just play instead?
Oh, how I love this:
“shoveling
all this (b)itter (s)trange
soup”
And yes, we are doing this. Always:
“stooping to re
-bury their own bones”
Yes:
“collect the scattered hells
of ourselves”
YES:
“Play the ominious
music, baby.”
Yes Yes Yes:
“We’ve got
a part to play, a way
to turn crimson water
into indigo ink, hang
up our hammer(head)s,
………………..and play.”
Love you. Big time. 😉
Love you back, in broad chalklines.
the double meanings in your poem are so innovative! 🙂 Love it!
🙂 Play – yes, that is the best thing we can do!