It’s Hard To Be Urban After Four Days In The Country

I’m joining NaPoWriMo late again!  Every year I end up playing catch up. I think it has to do with that Trickster”s Day on the 1st of every April.  It’s no accident the poets got this month to be commemorated! I have a good excuse – the Lucidity Poetry Festival In Eureka Springs, Arkansas. It’s run by a force of nature- the elegant Birma Castle, an organizer par excellence who’s learned the awesome trick of combining charisma and common sense in the service of smooth friendly organization that works! i.e. everything ran on time and she delivered what she promised. Gotta love it!!

The heart of Lucidity is the critique circle. Poets are divided into groups of eight and every morning the group critiques poems from a pool of three each that poets submitted at registration. Good work gets done and even more importantly bonds are formed and relationships established.  Best of all, I had fun and came away longing to write.

I was thrilled by the idea of the Bop poem, but found it hard to write at the end of a long creative day that included a six a.m. poem for my latest project.  It’s also damn hard to think urban after days in the Arkansas countryside – about as pretty as it gets.  However, I’m determined to play, starting today and continuing on.  As far as I’m concerned NaPoWriMo is one of the finest poetry resources on-line.  I’m glad to be aboard.

Glut: A Buddhist Bop Poem


Locked mall door, woman waiting for the key to turn,

blue-shirt security lets shoppers in.  Semi-anatomically

correct mannequins pose for selfies, their artificial

grins mimic the smiles of on-commission saleswomen

who circle hungry shoppers, primed to succumb, greedy

for discounts offering more for less and then some.


 I like what I see, I see what I like, I want what I want


Wooing every predilection like a lover, consumers

throng ugly aisles; overhead florescent lights

bleach every skin tone pale, illuminate each pimple,

wrinkle, scar and mole.  Bone thin or overweight,

window glass throws back grotesque reflections —

character, drained dry by greed, forever needs more

shirts, jeans, dresses, jackets, handbags, shoes,

sugar, salt, fat, wine, whiskey, cars and child porn…


I like what I see, I see what I like, I want what I want


People disappear like snowflakes, melting from streets,

playgrounds, classrooms, the bathroom in the mall.  Every

thing is up for grabs.  Everyone can count, but no one

reckons cost based on cut connections — loss of energy,

lost love, disappeared experiences, snuffed talent — stuff

not enough to substitute for context and compassion.

This entry was posted in Desire, NaPoWriMo, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to It’s Hard To Be Urban After Four Days In The Country

  1. Anonymous says:

    Well said.

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