Getting A Move On

I climbed onto the roof tiles
and be the roofwalker.
This too is in my almanac,
as well as ploughing the soil,
and watching for spears.

You wonder at my sweet deception,
my dark and secret plumage.
I blazed through nothingness
and lit up the cemetery,
scouring lints of grass.

The world is well with you,
my love, so we’d dwell within
all places, peopled, listening,
as chickens roamed the yard and
houses lined up like matchboxes.

Prompt:

How do you guys get inspired to write? Unlike in my callow youth, where the desire to write corresponds with some dire relationship issue, these days, I write at the drop of a hat. Well, a metaphorical hat. I get influenced a lot by what I read. Say, I read a line that references the sun as spectator. Then I read another line about Erica Jong. Or whoever. Then I kind of put the two together. Strange bedfellows but that’s how art works I think. Anyway, that’s how quirky it is. And unpredictable, this writing stuff. I like it a lot. I like how the unexpected comes together. How slices of life make it into a poem too. Yea your real life. Those of you who do this stuff, alright, you “either get involved/or go play with yourself.” I’m still reading Julio Cortazar, so yes my poem borrows from one of his poem titles, “Get A Move On”. So the prompt is to put together two or more different things in your poem, get slices of life in between, and turn it into something else. On that note, I quote from the final stanza of Cortazar’s poem (which he apparently wrote in Nairobi in 1976):

“This is turning into something else,
it’s time to fasten the seatbelt:
turbulence.”

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