Jim stood full
of emotions
in the lushness
of Magwood Park
reaching out to
the skies.
Becalmed, he
looked down at the
dandelions, the
ragweed
blooming up,
choking roots, taking over his space.
Emptiness
unendurable
taking up
despair as communicable melancholia
desultory
substratum ruminative chlorophyll.
Jim decamped as
clouds passed
darkening a
view with the undertow of wind
enlivening
movements he could not make on his own.
Spying on the woman
he once knew carnally
across the
street, drapes open, anchoring her anxiety
in a dance, a
liberty he was circumscribed to stomach.
Rapid zipping
up electric blue sphere
cast the Circle
with sword and athame
speeding up
karma solipsism to keep afloat.
He was a green
ash, once a man,
now squirrels
sex up, engorging themselves
with nuts in
his trunk, a better home than procreator.
She, the woman
called Babylon in the windows
wore a crown of
life affirmation beyond abuse
matriarchal
underworld form agency due with the flick of her wand.
Weeds, garbage
greenery, critters all over the arms
reaching up
decorating a powerless Jim by living
filling him up
with insidious festering numbness.
The sun
conjoined Craft and root
moon feminine justice,
a truth chaos
sets daily on
the corner of Marks Road and Varsity.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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