hartfile final poem at the bar, Merica to Crawley (prose poem)

Merica gets off the bus, Orgood describes her to Crawley as she jaywalks toward the Eagle Eye catty-corner in over-the-calf spike/\heeled black boots.

In awhile as she cheerfully warms up hanging her faux ermine jacket near the jukebox, removing a Strunk and White yellow covered book from her pelt-like muff, Merica says,
"Crawley, what'd think of this one?"
Crawley rocks to and fro. Rinnie paces about, his eyes reflecting the blue noon sky. Merica perfects her lipstick in the back bar mirror cutely.

"Crawley, listen up :

the Lord of Song
had set the table
we arrived
ready, willing,
peculiar, unstable

Minnesota to me
will always resemble
the Statue of Liberty

ten thousand lakes
not sounding,counting
Lake Superior
10,000 years old with
Indians canoeing

a vast love like
Giuseppe Fortunino
Francesco Verdi

buffalo, elk. moose
wading, wolves pink
of tongue,

jam jars,
rockets to

we grew up
puzzle parts
soon to
navigate starlit
placid night

how they got us
when young
clever, quiet
yet our
songs are sung

though right now
a banquet frozen
old bus parked,
so I'm dozin

I suspect we saw
that piano guy
I thought
why can't I fly

indeed the first day
of the rest
of life, too early
for chime,
the thing
to know:
once upon a

Views: 82

Comment by J.P. Hart on February 23, 2019 at 11:21pm

'twas happier in a subtle Midwestern highrise. Right now: Gloria's blaring Best of Glenn Campbell, OM's got his face in some kinda goggles soaking in the South Shore Water Frolics and I'm hedging my bets for best cyber coitus.
How slick.!
Sure nuff: Diamonds & Rust (here I sit. Tiny speaker on this (10 years ago we both know) slid to 27.
Temporarily L.O.S.T.

Obviously I lost deadline what with the Kashhoggi + Foley philght if facts, Short-changing the best and the brighest.

Man hears: YO

Comment by Robert B. James on February 24, 2019 at 7:34am

The Oscar goes to ......Dr. Hart (applause)

Comment by J.P. Hart on February 24, 2019 at 8:49am

!& I fly!
You're faster than Kris Kristofferson whom I heard ran down the road when and wherever the Four (4) Horsemen bus waysided.

Wouldn't you know. I get the Oscar when it's the Year of the Ghost-Host.

Robert, my profound hope (I hope to Hendrix) is that DaFoe brings it on home as Best Actor for At Eternity's Gate--of late I've some fair-to-middling unbeknown writerly production with a short story: Dialogues With St. Peter. I'll be with a VG friend, industry insider--with a crowd of sound and lighting specialists and, yo, other scribes. I may have to describe the mixology of the French '75 and will imagine to indulge.

Comment by catch-22 on February 24, 2019 at 11:52am

We do hold a torch ‘round these parts, I like Merica and her bold red lip

Minnesota está viendo Telemundo and the mundo tells us, better get back in touch with that vast love, amigx.

Cheers from across the imaginación ~

Comment by J.P. Hart on February 24, 2019 at 10:57pm

Ciao catch-22...

thoroughly unfathomable why o why my great ancestors diverted the covered wagons here to North Pole South...negative 15...dead of night...& yeah: Monday, Monday


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