New Poem

Here's a tender, new shoot of a poem. Doesn't even have a title yet. Let me know what you think.

We’ve come to see a performance
and a hunched man performs
pounding on as many drums

as he can drum in one night
during one summer
in a dim cave with chandeliers

that is not a cave but a hall
a tall empty space and he’s hunched
and sitting like we’re sitting

but not moving as much as he is
moving as he pounds
on drums and reaches down to drink

like we grab something to drink
and move but we’re drinking beer
in plastic cups that sweat and sweat

like he’s sweating this one summer
and there’s a lot of darkness
filled with drumming and beer

around us, dark like a cave except
we’ve got chandeliers and spotlights
and low lights at each table

small like kitchen tables or tables
you’d drag out to a porch
during summer when it’s dark

like a cave but not a cave because
I can see fireflies and hear cicadas
and smell more hay than beer

when the neighborly shamans
come over to drink from sweating cups
and they play mandolins, fiddle, banjo

after the sun’s gone down
and there’s not time before or after
this sun, this porch, this cave

Comments

[Tanya]

I like the poem..captured my senses, felt the rhythm, moved in and out of the images in my mind...
T.