Georgic: NaPoWriMo – Day 22

I spent the weekend at Round Top Poetry Festival immersed in poetry in person without spending a second on-line. My introduction to Round Top was a conversation overheard in a restaurant.  I interrupted my neighbor’s lunch and demanded more info.  Next year I wet the website four days after registration opened and barely got room and board- the workshops were already booked!  This year I haunted the site all of February and managed to sign up for three extraordinary sessions. This is a wonderful event- the venue is exceptional, the poetry’s sublime.

Round Top itself is an arty little town deep in the east Texas countryside. It’s at its peak beauty in April and this year the wildflowers are exceptional, lacing the fields in drifts of pink, white, blue, yellow and gold.  So it’s my great pleasure to find such a bucolic prompt as my first task…

Georgic for an Empty Lot


Empty lot – wasted space

can you waste what’s infinite?

Earth being finite, being precious

ought by human standards

though not actions

to be loved, but this is unloved land

ruined with spill

oil, blood, rust, semen, yellow piss

withered condoms everywhere

rotten tires, mattresses disgorging foam.

Broken bottle teeth plot retribution

to careful fingers reaching now to grasp

gather, clear the space, yes, eighty fingers

each assigned a few square feet of hallow ground

fill rented dumpsters squatting just outside the fence

an hour has barely past when neighbor women

come by carrying water, lemonade and pie

a homeless body, gender undetermined

trucks garbage in a stolen grocery cart

meringue leaves rings round chapped and blistered lips.

Tomorrow next day and the next muscled men

will dig the rock hard soil, not to plant

that would be one miracle too much

but just to waken, bring relief and honor

soils’ long bereavement

as to a man who stepping out of undeserved imprisonment

is met with hot and soapy water, clean clothes and home cooked food

instead they build raised beds, truck in fertile dirt, plant seed

those who garden harvest

homeless body, gender undetermined

comes every day to water.

This entry was posted in Community, Daily Prompt, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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