Poets Picnic
out to the woods as
the sun sets
and
clouds roll in with warm gusts of spring wind
two
poets talk
about how the air is swollen with the
scent
of an incoming storm and how the
atmosphere is one of pure, stark,
natural potential and how
natural potential and how
they
could both go for some real lightning.
Indulge
them – they're poets.
Walking and talking,
one poet hands the other some
Swedish Fish and asks how he feels about
one poet hands the other some
Swedish Fish and asks how he feels about
peanuts and Twix respectively.
They
continue talk-walking
eating candy and
philosophizing.
As
they chew on
Red-40,
Gelatin,
and
High Fructose Corn
Syrup
their meandering stroll asks the world a
question,
“What does a poet consume?”
What
does a poet consume?
The poets, aware or not, begin answering.
A
poet consumes the sound
of wind moving thousands of leaves,
of wind moving thousands of leaves,
the smell of spring in muddy woodland paths
and
turbulent March air,
the cooling warm of southern wind
smoke
from smoldering tinder
light filtering through pines
the
bass-boom of thunder
the greyscale of a post-sunset forest
places
sights
stories
memories
words
music
emotions
thoughts
Twix.
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