Thursday, April 08, 2004

double dutch bus on the tip of her tongue, writing with all five of her senses, lingering a moment longer on the sense of taste, hence all the yam and sweet potato pies, death to all adverbs and adjectives (useless), it's all about powerful verbs and nouns, speak the truth and nothing but the truth and you'll learn things about yourself that you never knew was there (after each poem she writes she comes out a different person), and lose the "to be" verbs, unless you want to slow things down and find comfort in that. yes, i fell in love with ruth forman tonight. we all did.

poetry should ride the bus

poetry should hopscotch in a polka dot dress
wheel cartwheels
n hold your hand
when you walk past the yellow crack house

poetry should wear bright red lipstick
n practice kisses in the mirror
for all the fine young men with fades
shootin craps around the corner

poetry should dress in fine plum linen suits
n not be so educated that it don't stop in
every now n then to sit on the porch
and talk about the comins and goins of the world

poetry should ride the bus
in a fat woman's Safeway bag
between the greens n chicken wings
to be served with tuesday's dinner

poetry should drop by a sweet potato pie
ask about the grandchildren
n sit through a whole photo album
on an orange plastic covered lazyboy with no place to go

poetry should sing red revolution love songs
that massage your scalp
and bring hope to your blood
when you think you're too old to fight

poetry should whisper electric blue magic
all the years of your life
never forgettin to look you in the soul
every once in a while
n smile

- ruth