puffed my cheeks like a chipmunk and blew out
exhaled the stale of ancient rocks
then clapped my hands against the thunderous lock
of my heart growing cold
chose the eraser thick with the cake
and licked it fingerbare to the bones
choking on numbers, letters, wordsback wards spelled
as if I knew in some particle of soul
chalk was ancient and I was dying young for old
for Real Toads: An Antic Disposition
Kerry hosts and asks us to consider the madness of the month of frantic poeming, as well as madness as a theme, of course, inspired by it being The Bard's anniversary, birth and death. So we are to delve into the darkness of The Mind.
I could write about this for eons, I love this kind of topic, but I kept it simple ~ I'm frazzled for the fizzle, and of course, "late."
image: public domain: by Diego Torres - Seven Sisters, East Sussex, England
note: of course, Blackboard chalk and Chalk are not exactly the same chemically, but they are family. And if you are of a certain age, you might remember the "magic" of being chosen to clean the blackboards, and trying to clean the erasers too. Talk about dust storm. And there is all kinds of "weird" attributable to what was permitted when it came to the rules and all of that shit of an era, way back in the days of 70's Catholic grade school etc. So the madness lives on in the lungs.