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April 10, 2016

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Their world is dying

For the fruit we slice up

On Cornflakes and Rice

 

Krispies. Chupacabras

Wonders between the big

Leaves and trunks and knows.

 

He should hold crops

For themselves. How

Many acres of rain

 

Forest disappear

Everyday for McDonald’s?

Homes are sinking

Into the core,

Hot, and molten, and afraid.

 

My car disappeared

Last night, pushed

Away by a giant

Beast, alone

And unbelieved in

 

Leaving empty peels

And a few drained corpses

In his wake.

 

This is Poem #57 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

I suppose it’s more

Politically correct to call

Them “Undocumented

Species” – the creatures

Generations of folks

See. All over the world,

 

Here, Big Foot, there, the Yeti.

Here the Mountain Lion,

There, El Chupacabra.

 

Sometimes a sea serpent

Appears to lift

Your ship up above

The ocean. It is easier

 

To keep yourself secret

Underwater with depths

Too deep for humans

To explore –

 

Places where the pressure

Of salt seas would squish

Our heads –

Implode our ears,

our brains –

Where there is not light,

But phosphorescence,

And dreams.

 

In the hills of the Himalayas

Or the rural towns of Maine,

How do giant fur men hide

So well not the gift of official

Shelter remains found?

 

This is Poem #31 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

This poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

 

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