{"id":136,"date":"2009-03-25T03:39:00","date_gmt":"2009-03-25T08:39:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.stephenpickering.com\/?p=136"},"modified":"2009-09-11T18:27:15","modified_gmt":"2009-09-11T23:27:15","slug":"a-little-night-poem","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/2009\/03\/25\/a-little-night-poem\/","title":{"rendered":"Little Night Poem"},"content":{"rendered":"

I don’t care what the foam sea squalls say:
\nThe mountains are made of mint.
\nGreen I spend gliding upon the emotion-
\nLess ramp besieged by the creepy Count de Bourgie
\nOf my psyche. The orphaned Queen of my heart will jump
\nStraight down into her moat and drown
\nIf the adventurer of my soul forgets
\nTo stay on his horse.
\nA jacketed smoke walk down to the Bourbon wall.
\nIt stretches a few quarters, but the one
\nInside, it tunnels inward Universe upon Universe.
\nA bleek streak.Beaker Street. Jazz blue smokes Bitches Brew
\nTo whites of eyes carved out of stone
\nDemi-Gods staring back double fisted.
\nThey can take it even pinned to a mountain for centuries.
\nWe (the children still inside me) roll in the dough, little sprinkled whites,
\nAs pigeons of possibility sip cappucino on the departing square.
\nSomeone shuffles down a back alley
\nOf my heart. A glance, and two dark, soft eyes
\nSurrender the Yucatan night as the beach waves
\nDive in from the hole the Dinosaur asteroid made.
\nWe shriek down to drink the Greek god’s salty blood.
\nI buy trinkets for her and two dresses embroidered with firebirds,
\nOne for Mum. They will fly us to the shore. The rest, well…we must save some words.
\nThe phone call goes through but I don’t hear her voice.
\n(Who could in this situation?)
\nSomeone else (the sloucher) whispers a void
\nThat sucks away the beach sunrise sunset dream.
\nThe cats blur in the fiber
\nGlass behind locked chained links for winter, but the matted Tabby
\nOf my bewilderment is stuck in the roof of my ego
\nAnd moans for food, for a way out.
\nOh, how I reach!
\nSound gets through, light gets through, all the forces of nature get through
\nBut there is still something else we are waiting for. What is it?
\nI never forget the freaky blizzard where even the flowing
\nFountain turned into block. Don’t tell me life isn’t quantum.
\n(Even after wave after wave almost drowns me)
\nSomeone, no, not just anyone,
\n She<\/em> turns to me laughing gingerly in the cold,
\nDark back alley of the warehouse district,
\nBut I let the flashy city’s neon outlines carry me away,
\nBuilding upon building seeking the sacred pyramidal top.
\nSoon enough, though, I’ll be alone in the Pontiac,
\nBristling at the bones,
\nNestling into the concrete, filling another Weller
\nWith spring water, looking at the gate still not crumble,
\nEven as the giant hundred year oaks howl at the city’s brick tablets.
\nMy one hand left snakes, and an eye opens the Sun curtain.
\nOne tree and a bounding suspicion race
\nGod knows where but the car’s breath
\nRoars in the hope that at least it’s somewhere,
\nHome to someone,
\nWho might finally have that expression on her face
\nWe’ve been waiting for
\nOur whole life.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I don’t care what the foam sea squalls say: The mountains are made of mint. Green I spend gliding upon the emotion- Less ramp besieged by the creepy Count de Bourgie Of my psyche. The orphaned Queen of my heart … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[35,33],"tags":[432,70,429,71],"class_list":["post-136","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-my-poetry","category-poems","tag-my-poetry","tag-poem","tag-poems","tag-poetry"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=136"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=136"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=136"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=136"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}