NaPoWriMo, NaPoWriMo2018, Personal Experiences

NaPoWriMo Days Nineteen-Twenty-One: Thinking Nag Champa


Days nineteen through twenty-one. No prompts used for these days. Frankly feeling a bit “slow minded” as one friend would say. But today, still I wrote some poems. They are connected in that I took the last line of the first poem and used it as a nudge for the second, and the last line of the second, a nudge for the third. So the content is different and changes, but there is also something similar woven through.

Writers block

Writers blank

Writers black

Vacuous still

No will—no current 

electric enough to spark

To startle out of this window gaze

The night’s gentle bow bends deep

And pink light fades to gray

Dusk of the day

No matter

Headlight beams 

slow drone 

down the street

Flick at the window and pass

Like the dawn 

through 

cathedral glass

***

Cathedral glass

Cathedral stone

Cathedral golden

Warm yellow beams 

on bended necks and bowed heads

The fuzz of the skin

under sun’s white light

doesn’t ask and

is unseen

but it is 

the softest thing 

that makes a man a man

or a child a thing that breaths

Dust motes fall through light

Cathedral glass

Cathedral stone

Cathedral golden that holds

them all

***

Go to the room where they all stood

Room in the round

Long bands of colors and fractals 

case the wall and sing like prayer

Red shag strains to cup bare bodied feet

And on that warm woolen moss that scratches, there they sat

Sharp nag champa burns. Tumbles through the air

Ancient smoke of soul and body

whispers into the olfactory

to meet the factory into which the heart-blood beats 

warmly into the thoughts 

that make me me

And out again I breath

into the room where they all stood

Room in the round where

I am me

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