{"id":2644,"date":"2010-04-08T18:51:08","date_gmt":"2010-04-08T23:51:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.stephenpickering.com\/?p=2644"},"modified":"2010-04-08T18:53:02","modified_gmt":"2010-04-08T23:53:02","slug":"new_original_american_poetry_called_scarlet_fever","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/2010\/04\/08\/new_original_american_poetry_called_scarlet_fever\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem | Scarlet Fever"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

I want to become the flower
\nDrinking a hawthorn berry shower.
\nI feel that the painting is alive
\nThat I could jump inside
\nand live a life.<\/p>\n

The love you want resides inside a flame
\nBurning Jerusalem to the coast of Spain.
\nFrom the secret Indian province
\nto the street children’s colorful ribbon dance.
\nA carousel song.
\nThey want to belong.
\nChildren of the Sun
\nin the land before time begun.<\/p>\n

We are the whispering ones,
\nfollowing the trail of crumbs,
\ngrasping for song,
\nhoping the the poem will come along.
\n“Run along, run along, my dears
\nbefore those little eyes fill with tears.
\nThey are the dew, you know,
\nFreshly made from the melting snow.
\nThe only God is in your head,
\nbut he’s real and he’s meant what he’s said.”<\/p>\n

We’re so tired. We need some sleep.
\nIt’s so important that we dream.
\nIt becomes the patterned sleeve,
\nThe path by which we leave.
\nTomorrow’s sounding more like a bell
\nOn which the doves of heaven sing
\nTo the serpents of hell.
\nWill we wait here all morning in the rain
\nFor the climbing of that midnight train?<\/p>\n

It’s made of blue smoke and jazz,
\nand all the things that we didn’t have.
\nHalve a peach with me.
\nSit down and eat.
\nWhen you were a baby covered in red
\nDid you know the song would awaken the souls
\nand bring back the dead?<\/p>\n

Don’t forget the poem,
\nor Lucy living under Lake Victoria’s soil.
\nBlood made of Sun.
\nRun, rabbit, run.
\nLondon is here,
\nbut her price is too dear.<\/p>\n

I’m not sure what would make us happy tonight.
\nA glass of mediteranean wine?
\nDistilled from the soapy sea
\nOf flavored memory?<\/p>\n

What should we worry about,
\ncry for and shout?
\nWe may go to sleep,
\nLie about and dream,
\nor maybe there’s something on T.V.,
\nthen walk quietly the evening streets.<\/p>\n

The poem at the end of the mind
\npeeks its eyes up through the morning’s rhyme,
\neffortlessly following the golden thread of desire,
\nmoving by magic carpet and doesn’t tire.
\nIt winds up a European cobblestone street
\nlooking for a safe place to curl up and grieve.
\nIt is the red, Irish beauty among the leaves
\nand the flight to the maiden czar across the eternal sea.
\nShe who holds court
\nat the end of the World.<\/p>\n

At the bottom of that eternal, endless sea
\nThe golden bird, golden horse, the princess
\nWe want to return and long to be.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I want to become the flower Drinking a hawthorn berry shower. I feel that the painting is alive That I could jump inside and live a life. The love you want resides inside a flame Burning Jerusalem to the coast … 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":[70,429,71],"class_list":["post-2644","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-my-poetry","category-poems","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\/2644","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=2644"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2644\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2644"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2644"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stephenpickering.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2644"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}