I pull down the mountain, by Melissa Chaconas

I pull down the mountain with my hands
I stare at the page
Clouds float thri=ough fast
And I try ti scranbke down electronically the WORDS
With one hand while thee other holds my body and muse separate but together

Who will fall from above higher learning?
on stones to the garden AND
Lay me down open the flower that has rough petals
That droop and sting as hot as lava

Scratch with nails at the wood cardboard like thin sheets that block the climb-through
That led to the rusty monkey bars where I first tied to speak poetry to non-listeners….
Ivy n word old loneness’ filled my heart with ferment fulfillment was it foul ? but other girls n boys
Didn’t like it there
And sometimes before the sun would set I would feel the on-lookers stare N wonder again
Since my birth
repeatedly
Are they a poet or just an other bore!~

I want to take this poem to the grocery store and speak to it by the veggies
And be a commercial-photo op for people to SPEAK to children

But the Stanley & Sylvia, Stephen, Zbigniew and Lowell and Bhagavad-Gita
Won’t show up with billboards or push-in pins with signs as pens
Not for the coke-head/heroin accident of my day that recites 1960’s work
And shakes like a snake in the alley.. “umm…yeah like yeah”

U can twist the reachin into vibrations of the

The voice maybe
But the printed holds more truth than drama from an non-actor/actress

I want to call
I want to nestle the breast of cookies n milk
Until you scream im gay sometimes but always
Or should I write a poem for u everyday
Because you don’t SPEAK to others but bu but but
This silly Greek girl knows you

The Latino needs curry-chicken he thinks from a goddess but not

Dad u sold the house of my childhood to liars
I don’t want to work for the government
I want to be like aunt penny’s baby’s daddy
And go live in California work at a library on Sundays
Do idle work for money
Live in a house that gypsy n I write so our minds diont blow
The body follows happiness
I once was a happy body-able mind too
When I was following it

Will you still accept your daughter when she doesn’t talk?

Verbally

But

just publishes work/play/love to little birds who carry or are messages from the others

if I go— will I turn-off my cord
unplug my comfort n

dance when hungry

About poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.
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