Mystic Jimmy and the Mermaids (Along with the Suede Milkmaids)

Again, spring ran ahead, horizontal 62 hour rain and hail, flat screen replete (never complete) nor perfect, ever, another checker marathon, audio of Sunlight Dialogues, rooftops balconies, A-train, Coltrane, cross-town elephants winked, eyes on scratchless screens nary blinked, incessant angst or dread, how will all the children be fed, genie in the bottle, maybe back to Walgreens, for 100 red noses: glued together, no replication of high, a humongous artificial sun, one big show (hear their cries) before the snow flies, I trust this sounds like moe, alright! It's time to go!  

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Comment by mary gravitt on May 14, 2018 at 2:13pm

Iowa is looking for a Poet Lorret.  May its two rs.

Comment by catch-22 on May 14, 2018 at 2:53pm

Your suede milkmaid more than likely knows

her way around a horse, Poseidon, perhaps

her sea faring cousin, rider of waves, thrasher of tail

as for rain and hail, they never fail

really good to read you today, mystic jimmyprettypleasehart ~

 

Comment by J.P. Hart on May 15, 2018 at 9:38am

Coming from two of the top three writers on Our Salon, mary gravitt, catch-22, i'm inspired. So I turned to page 729 Les Miserables, curious how far off, the sea of love. Another start forthcoming:

}Madre's Note{

That vision of Lester Holt, as the black-haired thirsty child searched pocket to pocket too nervous, frantic, for the numbers that madre wrote.
Wate colors of the Rio Grande, although the rain at last seized, an emerald hummingbird, magic in-around-free of man cave's shadow, an open door, startled with Vincent Van Gogh, Boats of San Marie.
I thought of the sisters of the sun. All things kaleidoscopic, a cool morning, the navy again on warning, too soon beyond as the tiniest vulnerable baby koala. Almost choreographed: swish-whoosh. Rapidly then, she spoke to the microphone, smiling then crying: recuedra. Ese nueve? seis ocho ???. Ciudad Kent Akron Bakersfield Salinas?? Granja?
As for fifty years I weep since that midnight:

"Wake up wake up! They killed Bobby . . . "

Comment by Robert Wolf on May 20, 2018 at 11:04am

Your word play put me in mind of Gertrude Stein's Tender Buttons, an important early example of her non-objective writing. We  sadly don't get much of this, so I applaud you word play. You've made me want to go back an play with it too!

Comment by J.P. Hart on May 20, 2018 at 11:37am

R. Wolf,
~thanks, man~

O! Cyber thumbs up, bro!

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