Mar 14, 2023·edited Mar 14, 2023Liked by Poetic Outlaws
Beautiful.
I lived off and on the street maybe 6 years. Poetry started erupting out of me in the early l990s, before I was homeless. A 4-year dark night of the soul came, and a great deal of luminous and other poetry with it. I knew God existed, whereas before, I had only believed. A black night came, and there was nothing brewing in me but plotting every day how to kill myself, for 16 months. I was resurrected from that dead zone by something clearly not of this world. The first stint at being homeless came and lasted a few years, as more poetry came, some of which I could not assign to my own creation. I was not homeless and more poverty came, I was homeless again, and very little poetry came. V/ery little poetry came since then. Since late 2017, I'm not homeless. I'm 80. I when I wrote poetry, it was because it just came out of me. I did not sit down to try to make a poem. The poem sat me down to show me something about me, about life, and about much more, I came to view all of life as poetry.
"Test each day and night for ripeness like a melon at the market"..."crucified on the hands of a clock"... I mean honestly, how many perfect images is one poet allowed to access per poem? <3
I've had this poem sitting in my browser waiting to be read for a week. I'm so glad I finally returned to it, because it's so special. Thank you for adding a little beauty to my day
Beautiful.
I lived off and on the street maybe 6 years. Poetry started erupting out of me in the early l990s, before I was homeless. A 4-year dark night of the soul came, and a great deal of luminous and other poetry with it. I knew God existed, whereas before, I had only believed. A black night came, and there was nothing brewing in me but plotting every day how to kill myself, for 16 months. I was resurrected from that dead zone by something clearly not of this world. The first stint at being homeless came and lasted a few years, as more poetry came, some of which I could not assign to my own creation. I was not homeless and more poverty came, I was homeless again, and very little poetry came. V/ery little poetry came since then. Since late 2017, I'm not homeless. I'm 80. I when I wrote poetry, it was because it just came out of me. I did not sit down to try to make a poem. The poem sat me down to show me something about me, about life, and about much more, I came to view all of life as poetry.
"Test each day and night for ripeness like a melon at the market"..."crucified on the hands of a clock"... I mean honestly, how many perfect images is one poet allowed to access per poem? <3
This one grabbed me deep man! Thanks for the introduction. I will look her up.
Fuck It’s got to be heard!
🙏
I've had this poem sitting in my browser waiting to be read for a week. I'm so glad I finally returned to it, because it's so special. Thank you for adding a little beauty to my day
Simply beautiful!