On a day when I was Somewhat Free g.e.a On a day when I was somewhat free I found some nature just for me I sat beneath a Sycamore tree and stargazed for hours On a day when I was somewhat free I happened upon a young lady with a huge smile on her face huge hicky on her neck big swing in her step and I chose to believe that somewhere in the direction from which she had come there was a corresponding smile on the mouth of some young man or young woman similar in size to the passion mark in question On a day when I was somewhat free I daydreamed about poetry I daydreamed about writing a poem about feeding chocolate to dogs It would be one of those warm ebulient poems that start off with blue skies and carefree afternoons among gardens of sweet-smelling flowers feeding tasty chocolates to dogs and making them feel loved I would write such a poem of course, because people will find a way to be okay with it if city government misplaces 93 million dollars or fills city departments with patronage jobs or awards huge development contracts to campaign contributors but MAN, if you don't know you're not supposed to give dogs chocolate they will STRING YOU UP! On a day when I was somewhat free I picked leaves and berries from the side of my house and fed myself without paying I got on my bicycle and traveled without paying I got to the top of a hill I coasted down the other side and felt the wind I forgot that I was a person with a face a son without a mom an person being judged by other persons I became simply that which receives the wind while moving forward On a day when I was somewhat free I inventoried some of the freedoms for which I am greatful Freedoms that I have, for the most part, awarded to myself I took time to be with my gratitude for the freedoms I have and plotted on how to get the rest
Okay, just putting this out there. If you feed chocolate to dogs, they'll get sick, and in some cases die.
It says that in the poem. edit: Rereading the poem, I guess it doesn't explicitly say that, but that was part of the point.
You might not know it to look at me But I was raised by a pack of... ... Women Hey. That's who stayed to raise the baby Moms, gramma and the landlady I knew more about menstruation than my first girlfriends I knew about chocolate and brain stems But not long stems or blush or eye liner That just wasn't the kind of women we were I was raised by a pack of women I was scared of all the things that all the little boys were scared of PLUS I got to be scared that when I grew up some man was gonna treat me like shit Leave me huddled behind a locked door with nothing but a kitchen knife between me and... and.. well I can't say for certain but something awful are men even worth the trouble? I might skip them altogether. Whatever. I was raised by a wild pack of women My father was named mom and she threw quite a bomb just enough over my head so that I had to jump to catch it And spike it in the end zone and strut in front of the pretend men flex my muscles again spike, rince, repeat. sending pretend foes to defeat enough times to try the patience of the top ten tolerant fathers or at least that's my best guess We'd watch the real football guys on the tv together The gigantic, muscle-bulging, padded titans Crash, smash, Cash! And the soft fluffy plastic ones with the pom-poms me and moms cheer, cry and laugh but by the 3rd half we'd probably be talking about what neighbor needed a favor I was raised by women I know them too well they meet me and can't tell I should come with a smell I don't know if I've ever even seen a carborator But blindfold me and I can disassemble your vibrator never knew what it was but it made a cool buzz and Darth Vader used it to torture Han Solo And then I'd hear mom's key and the door and put it back where it go so caaaaaaarefully that's she'd never know that I played with her toys that she was too stingy to share so there!
presently tense green.earth.al may.19.2005 I passed the tree that reminds me of you where I tried to defend you from tiny ants and big internal demons I passed the table piled high with paper where I kissed you after breakfast the thinking it keeps me afloat I passed the past well into the future there are no suitable moments to live in now I look ahead and look back and ahead oncemore I will pass the time building castles in the dry sand taking water when it comes grateful to the ocean you were and will be
