This was a day of no poetry
Subterranean randomness
Pondering things that presented out of the whole bloody universe
Into mine
Discovering the hidden hell of an island paradise
Where raped girls are lashed a hundred times
Draining joy from Eden
This was a day when I stared at a blank page
Blankly
This was a day of no poetry
Making nonsense through broken fingertips and deaf ears
This was a day of transitions and intersections
Going to an interview that wasn’t
Which led to poetic disclosure
So poetry hijacked the day
Weaving spoken word wonderment into
Hibiscus tea, steampotting aromatically
As the story of the leaves was written
In a worddance
This was a day of music
Music unleashed
This was a day of primal sound
Troubadour music
Where one singer with one instrument unveils his soul
Inside the shared breath of a small room of friends
New friends all
Because at a house concert the person beside you is a friend
Ipso facto
This was a day when poetry walked
This was a day for muses to laugh
This was a day for poetry to dance
This was a day
This was a day
This was a day like none other
David Trudel © 2013
“steampotting”. That’s a little magic, right there.
Thanks so much Seb. It was a weird day, perfect to write about!
Here is a link to a Youtube video of the musician referenced in this piece, same location and one of the same songs he played last night, five months ago. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yuQH8bKuRyI