2011/09/14 § 1 Comment
Young new poet and artist Maggie Ellis on America and “somewhere never traveled, gladly beyond.”
Here is the Improper, “you stop her,” party hopper
A hoper for poppies, “stop me”s, but she’s on her feet now, can’t
Catch or catch-all,
“Just let her fall,”
While the willows will, low or high, raise up
Their branches between the buckwheat fields. Now, down the street, straight,
Strutting, an instantaneous insider,
Initially intending only to injure, ignoring the insights inside, inept and
Ignorant and wise and peppered with fears of irrational –
No, but this is a country lane, higgledy-piggledy piling around places and pieces of hay, You kids!
Just let it go, leave it be, let it alllllllll hang out, there’s so much to live, for you and me are together,
Again, with the stay off the lawn!
She’s faster, she’s racing, beginning to gain again, to leave you in the Dust –
Stop her, stopper, stop her, cradle the crippled craziness near the crutches
And cockles of your heart, hear her “Stop me”s, heed her holler of Help, help, Hell
With it, all sick, all sweet, all sour, She shouts shut up, and silently sink me slowly below
The edge, the brink, I mutter “Don’t want no damn shrink”, blink, blink.
And sweet-smelling secrets rise from the scrap-heap, king-worthy, dirty, apple-
Blossom clean, they sift through a screen of consciousness.
She is collecting, collaborating, correlating, corresponding quietly, quickly, quaking,
Quickening her pace, counting her pulse, Up and about and around, childish chivalry changing her
Revisions, decisions, visions, her fissions into fractions into wide, wide spaces
Surrounding the thunderstorm in her heart, calling
To your heart,
Student, flower-child-Quaker, and alive