The Diaries of Harold

I looked at a title “Green Sees Things In Waves”.
And yearned for “startling images”.
Even I, the most theoretical one, would
wave goodbye, tipping a pilot’s cap,
at your dad, steeped in his accounts,
a smoke trail then kamikaze into
the oratorical sunset.

Your dad would grow despondent but
elliptical. Coralling self into service.
You in diapers, falling into vegetables.
I will leaf through his diaries.
By the fall, though distracted,
and moody, I’ll be done, sire. Then
he too, will leap through air.

Prompt: Howdy. Been a while. I’ve been too far away from poetry. And when I brush up against it, like a furry thing, it gets deep. Sometimes it’s too deep. It matters who you’re reading. Some poets are accessible and others not. So not that it’s easy to get distracted. But I’m gonna try. I’ll keep you guys posted. In the meanwhile you could try reading up a poet and then reference the title you’re reading. Like what I did. Mine’s “Green Sees Things In Waves” by August Kleinzahler. His work has been described as “experimentalist”, “angular”, “precise”, “chiseled”. Wish me luck as I drink from a new oasis.

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