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The Second of May

Posted: Sun May 05, 2019 3:26 pm
by Tracy Mitchell
~

The Second of May

The ticker has flipped over.

Digital hallways have fallen
silent again – just me and Baidu
in a wordless, ceaseless reunion.
  
Bing will appear presently.
Ichiro too, I expect, and the corporate reps -
Alexa, Alta Vista, Heritrix, and
four of the Googles.
Though they all wink in and out 
soundlessly.

White asparagus
moisture
renders gun-metal gray plastic 

clear with morning’s reflection 
from the window
high, high on a wall.
    
Fan motors and bar stools 
have lapsed 
to room temperature.


~
 

Re: The Second of May

Posted: Sun May 05, 2019 5:04 pm
by indar
you have your nerve posting this poem fresh from your trip abroad while the rest of us are too weakened from April to get our nouns and verbs in the right order.

Have you just started your asparagus under a hot frame? Is that what you are talking about? Is white asparagus as nutritious as green? I see it at the grocers---it looks dead

Love the last stanza---the pause between seasons so well expressed.

Re: The Second of May

Posted: Sun May 05, 2019 6:03 pm
by Tracy Mitchell
I discovered in Basel that white asparagus is white because dirt is mounded up over the shoots so that no sunlight gets in to facilitate photosynthesis.  Like in the silence of the TTB basement hallways on the heels of NaPo's finale.  Just me and the bots again. :D :D

I can't see how white asparagus is more nutritious, but it does have a different flavor than the green, and rather appealing at that.

Cheers.

T

 

Re: The Second of May

Posted: Sun May 12, 2019 8:23 am
by Lecram06
Tracy Mitchell wrote:
Sun May 05, 2019 3:26 pm
~

The Second of May

The ticker has flipped over.

Digital hallways have fallen
silent again – just me and Baidu
in a wordless, ceaseless reunion.
  
Bing will appear presently.
Ichiro too, I expect, and the corporate reps -
Alexa, Alta Vista, Heritrix, and
four of the Googles.
Though they all wink in and out 
soundlessly.

White asparagus
moisture
renders gun-metal gray plastic 

clear with morning’s reflection 
from the window
high, high on a wall.
    
Fan motors and bar stools 
have lapsed 
to room temperature.


~
 

Tracy,
My jaw drops when I read your poetry and find metaphors splashing out of the ordinary and the esoteric in a sensory blend that stuns. 
Marcel