from the vacant stillness
from the vacant stillness
of late august
in maryland
i’ve been long ago far away
follied down a well
after false premonitions
of foggy discontent
hollowed
& beaten
brown as mulch
on the shaded concrete
a boy asleep
on the bench next to me
how long has he been here?
before i interrupted his space
like a trumpet crooned
child laughter
out of a fourth story rafter
in the middle of the day
i was left addled
and paid for
on the front porch swing
shucking oysters & idling
a billy-goat in the dandelions
roaring in the garden
the yawning ardent want of wandering to wild
this earth is wild
no matter how many highways we wend across it
how many miles we surpass rain on semi-trucks
i’ve been long ago far away
as ranch cattle staid
on the wyoming prairie
that begs to be a desert
to be freed
of the cud
& the chewing
& the spitting rails
& the rank spittoons out of old beer cans
skunked radishes
in scarlet’s garden
the iron swelling
of the arab spring
bowled over
impregnated
in the belly of late august
the vacant stillness
of waiting for fall to furrow its brow
over a dusty stack of textbooks
browned at the edges
& in rings from black coffee
remind me
of when academics sat
in smoky wooden lecture halls
& took themselves seriously as a yellow legal pad
scratched over racingly in dogged precipitation of waltered suprension
and we
the masturbating library fiends
are at it again
sneaking up behind quiet
suspecting young women in white make-up
laced tight in the night as bourgeoisie buggles that break
under lightning in an eye-dropper
early morning deemsters
like pancakes & bacon
are worth waking for
when your body is aching for more
than what it got the night before
with some loose cannon rooster
strut-slutting cock-lockety across the street
in an abbey road daydream
on a monday afternoon
in the hot attic room
dropping grizzly b-more believe drones
the re-verb static moans
falsetto scratch-back tones make me geek out
like i’m red lean buffalo meat
sold pre-packaged saran-wrapped with coleslaw packets
all sting
like the back-snapping pains
of illegals
their homes
all ramshackle adobe in the red hillside
has eyes
& has steps carved of dried blood
from cracked man hands
& old mother birth wounds
are black ink
blotched all over
my clean white hands
like childhood arthritis
like patella-femoral stress syndrome
E.T. phone home—earth to author earth to author
can we cut it out please
with all the earth-to’s?
who ever said i want to come down
from my head in the clouds?
so long as my feet are on the ground
i think i’m doing okay lately
i’ve been lolling about milling
& walt swoops down & accuses me
complains of my gab & my loitering
my cloistering of cloth garden rose dis-symetry
my finicking-trinksing
soft-staking love-making
in the hollow drum belly of djembe night in late august
humidly settled down
& blowing on tea
we take our time
about delving the old mines
left abandoned mid-19th century
the homestead act
would give you 160 acres
and a mule
for the worst hard time
is the same as this one
but now we are here to bear bull run
dressed in fine linens
but wiltered by noon
is like an oven already—
(Feature photo by Justus Heger)
Caitlan Mitchell is an MFA student at Naropa University’s Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, having earned her BA from the University of Maryland. She is a co-editor of The Love Shovel Review, an independent anarchist literary magazine based out of Nederland, Colorado. She has been published in the Naropa SWP Magazine and in The Museum of American Poetics’ Napalm Health Spa Report for their Long Poem Masterpieces of the Postbeats. She is currently working on a novel-length lyric myth.