Another body has burned; Sweet release.
I run so f*cking hot I struggle to breathe,
But I’ve changed so much!
Sweet release.
Rubbernecking the sun as they tell me that I’ve won.
Sweet release.
There’s purple in these eyes, staring at a neck every time I strum a line.
(Gasp) Sweet release.
But there’s nothing I’m afraid of (sweet release)
Like a candle dressed in white,
He greets each black stained fly that comes in every Sunday night; Sweet release.
Categories:
rubbernecking, america, anger, murder, red,
Form: Free verse
The corner of my eye notes it
as my car speeds by,
eyesight pings it
momentarily, an image
looks back.
The outbuilding is vacant,
bathed in a sparrow and bat time
that flutters inside its hollow shell.
Barn ambience
has kidnapped my attention
it has stabled my eyes in a timeless stall
where horse tails hang suspended
from broken timepieces
not clocks, just pieces of time
that,
like dust in sunlight
muster in the air
to mime a car and a glance
rubbernecking back.
Categories:
rubbernecking, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Old Spice’ and wet grass carry years
of understanding between us.
If I break wind, you run to me,
body rapt and heeding,
every hair translating
a smudged paragraph into
volumes of memory.
Rubbernecking my attention
with a fixed gaze,
you are staring at my next question,
willing to
jaw with more whiffs of intimacy.
A jargon of us both
surfacing in her millpond eyes.
Silent odiferous idioms crest
upon her black nose,
a cloddish lingo,
but it outruns anything that could be said.
Categories:
rubbernecking, poetry,
Form: Free verse
‘Old Spice’ and wet grass carry years
of understanding between us.
What I wear and you gather into you,
become a language neither of us know,
but comprehend in mouse-tracks of deduction.
You read grease and engine oil, as if grease and engine oil
were two parts of a book left out in the wet,
a chemical patois revealed by an inborn knowledge
of petroleum pipes, and the long-distance howls
of Alaskan wolves.
If I break wind, you run to me, body rapt and heeding,
every hair translating a smudged paragraph or two into
volumes of memory.
Rubbernecking my attention with a fixed gaze,
(No, Timmy has not fallen down an abandoned mine shaft),
you are just staring at my next question,
willing to jaw with more whiffs of intimacy.
Tales of muddy boots, the flash-fiction of urine trails,
(hers and her canine buddies, not mine),
the breezy gossip of each rabbit hole.
A jargon of us both
surfacing in her millpond eyes,
idioms cresting now on her black nose,
a cloddish lingo,
but it outruns anything that could be said.
Categories:
rubbernecking, poetry,
Form: Blank verse
fiddling with my
violin i can also
fiddle with my
viola in an
almost spastic
stance with head and
chin in an almost
accident rubbernecking
the accident which
has not not
only yet to
begin but will
happen
forgetting to
rosen my bow
now knowing
what the
screeching
of tires sounds
like played in
B flat major
Categories:
rubbernecking, muse,
Form: I do not know?
some one asked
where i was going
going down
downtown
just take this
one way street
all the way down
to her town
it's a wonderful
place parking
rubbernecking
a garden plot
that thickens
with climbing
roses so rosy
taking time
to smell
the wine
take a sip
taste bud swish
always good
to pair
with
the proper dish
Categories:
rubbernecking, muse,
Form: I do not know?
Clock!
You sculpt the clay of my life
With your rigid hands,
Shouting your high commands through morning alarms.
Accusations fly
As you collect your daily payment of attention.
When I find myself savoring life’s sweetness,
You sprint behind my back.
And when pain drops my heart from my chest,
You linger, rubbernecking from the wall.
You enclose the whole of my life
In that circular frame,
Ever spinning in your infinite math,
Drunk with power!
Clock!
I can take no more of your tyranny!
I can afford no more of your triple A battery lunches-
I am afraid you’ve run out of time.
So keep your hands out of my business, I’m sleeping in today.
Jacob Reinhardt 09/05/2013
Categories:
rubbernecking, analogy, art, change, city,
Form: Blank verse
If you are on a highway
And the traffic starts to slow,
There may be several explanations
Why this might be so.
It could be some construction
Or an accident, perchance;
More likely, though, the traffic jam
Is caused by just a glance.
‘Cause every single motorist
Must hit the brake and gawk.
A wrecked car’s as enticing
As a rodent to a hawk.
So one by one, each driver lets
His speed drop to a crawl,
Just savoring some other sucker’s
Automotive fall.
We call this rubbernecking
And the metaphor is apt,
Since every driver’s neck that cranes
Leaves other drivers trapped.
As Freud would say, whoever
Sees a situation grim,
Just feels relieved to know
The sorry victim isn’t him.
Unfortunately, traffic stops
Or moves just like a snail.
Wherever you are going,
Lateness surely will prevail.
Categories:
rubbernecking, life, metaphor,
Form: Rhyme
Simba the cat sitting in the a/c by the glass door looking outside,
Watching, ever watching nature take it’s ride,
Now a distant cat in the green tree shadowed field, on the prowl crossing,
A flock of birds springing up from those sun speckled shadows in the offing,
A squirrel running the top rail of the wooden fence’
Watching Simba watch is my recompense.
She spends a part of each day rubbernecking,
Entertained, interested and inspecting.
A butterfly darting off on a butterfly’s quest,
A gecko camouflaged on a tree flagging at rest.
A mysterious knot hole centers the trunk of a huge grandfather oak,
It’s leaves silhouetted by sky blue and cloud wisp smoke.
I had much to do today, but here I am watching Simba though,
she fooled me. How long have I been here. Where did she go?
Categories:
rubbernecking, peacetree, cat, tree,
Form: Couplet
The children,
Thick and plush upon the rug,
Sat meaningful
As they listened
With weathered ears.
Tiny Jennifer is seen
Below a crook in the credenza,
Fingering the supple threads
Of her mothers
Laced persona.
Good night my sweet prince,
Her smile says
As the thieves perch
In their thickets even as we speak.
Swallowing deep
In the depths of their acquittal
And drunk with
Alternated breaths
And visions.
And I,
I watched with a crooked grin
And isolated rubbernecking
And three cheers for the end of innocence.
A tropical fire alit in my mind.
And I,
I sat among
Their crystallized eyes and wept
With petty mass destruction,
Heating with a passion
That burns beyond my silent tongue.
Categories:
rubbernecking, allegory, angst, death,
Form: Free verse