NATURAL CAPITALISM
R. W. Emerson said, “The earth laughs in flowers.”
(I bet it vomits with acid rain)
walk
"fall"
down
the
stepping
steps
reach
for
that
wailing
rail,
don't
slip
don't
F
A
L
L
.
.
.
.
.
.
Because when you do, people keep kicking, it's what we do, at least ever since
That first
f
a
l
l
(and no, this isn't a seasonal reference, though orange and yellow leaves are quite
nice, pumpkins too, and who doesn't like the hanging on the front door scarecrow
décor)
That first
f
a
l
l
Where we gave birth to a mess called human nature
A bloody mess, like the moon from a couple nights ago
(though it wasn't the red I thought it would be)
And now we shake our heads like TV reporters saying, “What a shame...what a
shame.”
ROSSO
Red lips Red finger nails There's one and then another Together Killing two birds with a
stone A red jacket A wrecked red car Littering the freeway to the trees A sight for those
sleeping With their comfortable steering wheels And Obama stickers plastered To the
fridge The woman with a red bag And her Mercedes of matching color Parked terribly
outside the book store Two days ago Monday The toddler in the mall Running to her
mother wearing a miniskirt Red Shoes There was a cardinal in the backyard Red
stockings you said “Rosso” A Russian history book And the dog two days ago Fresh red
stench Filling the air Blood all over the meridian lines A red bottle cap Coca
Cola Beauty Backed against the most normal of situations The sunset This red
hair Maneuvering in the wind I sink into a leather seat Dreaming of red sequenced
shirts And world domination This way or that……………………………………but lips
Red lips Keep clouding my vision and I want to see again
THE OFF CHANCE…….(a sort of not quite almost sappy type of thing)
I want to write something for you
And that perhaps
By some off chance
Your eyes fall upon it
These words should be captivating…….
Wait…….
My words tend to be more absurd than captivating:
“Blue, feeling fickle, like Peter Pan realizing he needs health insurance.”
Nope.
I won't attempt captivation. I won't even try.
I guess I could talk about trees, or how the rain's been sporadic
Throwing in descriptions of daffodils or dogwoods
Yes, I love dogwoods
(Somewhere I read that Christ, His cross (the literal one) was made from a dogwood
However the author knew or came up with the assumption…….
I can't remember)
But no, for now I've written enough about dogwoods, and much too much about rain
(The second thing I ever came up with mentioned a dogwood
It was horrible. The rhyme scheme atrocious. Actually the last thing I wrote had a
dogwood too, though it involved space exploration, but no aliens. I'm anti-alien.)
But no, I'll leave scenery for the scene and others do it better so why try, right?
(Because I enjoy it from time to time, if you must ask, and I hope you're asking)
If this is for you, then my desire is for it to be about you
And even though the amount that I know of you is of such small quantity…….
Alas, I shall make an attempt
(Only if you insist, and I hope you're insisting)
I could talk about your hair or your white starlight complexion
But I'm not going to, though I guess I just did
No, I won't talk about your hair or your white starlight complexion
(Which I guess is a terrible analogy because the star behind the starlight is dead and
gone, blown up!)
Instead I'll talk of your voice
Your voice was a surprise, unexpected
Quite a lovely one I might add
The diction, the mild drawl
As if my imaginings of Mark Twain's larynx had come forth in female form
(As an aside, I'm sure your mouth is much prettier than Mark Twain's.
I've been proven wrong before however. Oh, how I make myself laugh! But please
Mark Twain's mouth certainly couldn't be prettier than yours.)
But it's such a pleasant, lovely southern voice
And if I recall correctly, you bit your lip
As if habit, at least twice
You were thinking of something
Though of course you did not divulge to me what it was
And while perusing those shelves, your eyes seemed tired in the book jacket dust
Your mind wasn't tired
I've felt the same thing late at night, my eyelids closed, my mind continuing to run
And I wake up with drool all over Kierkegaard
And yes Kierkegaard does little else but put me to sleep
I wish to comprehend only a tenth, a measly tenth
So I try. And I try. And I try. And then comes the drool
But let's get back to your lip biting
Now I may never be captivating, but that small little actions of yours…….
…….captivating indeed
(like that time I saw Jeff Bagwell hit a homerun, nah…….you're more captivating
than Jeff Bagwell, though he is up for the hall of fame, and he never took steroids,
and I'll shut up because I can talk baseball for days and days, and I don't want to talk
about baseball, I want to talk about you)
Yet besides these, what do I have to go on but interests?
And plain interests disinterest me most of the time
Though they tantalize my talking points
No, what I want to know about is your soul
(Too deep? Yeah, probably)
Or at least a little about the who you are
For example,
What color did you enjoy at the age of three, in comparison to the age of thirteen,
In comparison to the age of twenty three, in comparison to the present;
Or how about a description of an early, actually the earliest, moment you remember;
Or how about the pains that created you, for joy doesn't create anything and yet
lasts Longer than eternity
(the statement was meant to be confusing in order to promote curiosity)
Did you have a favorite pair of shoes? I did and then burned them one day,
symbolism or Something. I say I don't remember why ( but I do).
Do you like checkers or chess? Chicken pox or pneumonia? Plumbs or peaches?
Robespierre or Rasputin? Mud or sand? Sunrise or sunset? (the dog vs. cat question
is a mute point since I know you're allergic to the feline) Jenga or Candyland?
Lollipop or popsicle? Bob Dylan or Neil Young? Ticks or lice? (alright so the last one
is unnecessary, though the chicken pox one could have fit into the same category of
unnecessary I guess)
Oh…….
How I wish I could sit under some…….
…….well of course dogwood
Somewhere (but not Spartanburg)
With a wicker basket packed lunch that I painstakingly almost didn't ruin
While I ask you questions about the Revolutionary War (I'm sure you said you were
an AP US History teacher)
And whatever this is, it is more of a rambling ramble
Gambling at nothing short of the off chance
That your eyes might fall upon it