risks&promises sleep back2back on train seats

i break bread with the raven
on the sidewalk, fervent raindrops splash-
ing on my knees&rivulets of mud
paint weird patterns

we’ve been talking
through the night, my back aches
“i have run too fast” i say
&he is
—–strayed feathers all around me

“mainly it’s the people, isn’t it
that make a place
feel home or–“
we chew slowly

as if every concrete pole&streetlight
tastes a bit //of us
of friendship
sharing
with the homeless with a plastic bucket next to him

“the sky is just today” i say
“it never stretches beyond the moment
in a way that it feels right”

a little girl with a poppy-red bike pedals by,
balloon strapped to the handlebar
heavy wind wrapping her pink-cheek face
in a thousand well kept secrets

&her smile is crumbs
slipping on the asphalt, between trucks&shards&cigarette butts,
birds chase after
i attach a feather to my coat

“nothing will get lost” i shout
over a crazy symphony of traffic

&the day falls sky-ward,
curls around the moon’s bright nose
“see?” the raven says

&there’s no need
————-to answer

.

we’re writing “bread” today at dVerse… doors open at 3pm EST…

39 responses to “risks&promises sleep back2back on train seats

  1. I agree,, it is the people that make the place — isn’t it? Sharing bread is one of the best way to realize that.. really. Somehow your red balloon is a theme coming back..I think that should be part of a title of your poetry. I’m impressed how much you managed to get from the bread.

  2. Picture this, C … Konstanz Sept.2014 … Patio of The Insel Hotel … sharing my meal with pigeons and sparrows and gulls … waiter not happy … but me happy as can be … I say: I pay, so I stay … smiles … Love, c.

  3. Really some beautiful lines in this poem, Claudia. Yes, it is the people that makes a place feel like home. I like especially that the sky does not stretch beyond the moment — an idea that could launch a totally separate poem. I do really hope ‘nothing will get lost’ in the shuffle of life…..sometimes I wonder really…so many unknowns, and I wish I believed ‘there’s no need to answer.’ But that’s not me. Smiles.

  4. What makes your poetry so special is your gift of awareness of every detail that goes on around you. I am in such a slump because I don’t get out that much. You give me an idea of what I can do to get going. Nice poem. Love the raven.

  5. One thing about bread is that it can be shared so easily with people. Your poem reminded me of a meeting many years ago and some youngsters took the leftover sandwiches to share with the homeless in the Paris Metro.
    Ouch on the backache! That persistent backache was what led me to stop what little running I was doing and take up tai chi instead.

  6. if every concrete, street pole tastes a bit of us…that is a cool section for me….do places carry a bit of the flavor of the people we shared them with…if so, that would be cool…i do think it is the people that make a place….would be cool to have a convo with that raven as well…her smile is crumbs is a cool line….and nothing getting lost…i can only hope….you know…smiles

  7. Great observation and playing with different answers only to say no answer needed. ..Love ‘&the day falls sky-ward,
    curls around the moon’s bright nose’ ~ my head is spinning….:)

  8. Ah beautiful – conversation with a crow, smiles – this is something my little one enjoys a lot – it was one of the first words she started saying…and the continuity of life, is serene –

  9. A fantastic poetic, & as stated above, you created a word souffle out of stale bread crumbs; one of your best poems for a long time; a touch of mystery, scent of the surreal, a tad shamanistic, layers of levity, bits of morality mixed with personal glimpses you’re continuing to share. Like Brian, I responded to the lines
    /we chew slowly/as if every concrete pole&streetlamp/tastes a bit of us/. I bow to the power of your pen.

  10. Other than the obvious quality of the piece, knowing you, I enjoyed the last two lines of the first verse. About the rivulets of mud painting weird patterns. I envisioned a wet-in-wet technique in watercolor.

  11. A little surrealist painting with words there – reminded me of Murakami’s conversations with cats in ‘Kafka on the Shore’. I’d love to be a bird and share a meal with you, Claudia.

  12. “see?” the raven says
    &there’s no need to answer

    Often times things get a little entangled and it needs someone to bring it to one’s notice. Check and matters may not worsen! Great lines Claudia!

    Hank

    .

  13. Claudia, I love your poetry and to me, it comes closest to that of e.e.cummings. I find myself re-reading in order to get every lats crumb of meaning, yet there’s always something either new or that makes me think a bit more.

    janet

  14. Gosh there is so much to like about this piece of writing..it might be one of my favorites..it is the people that make a difference in the world. We can learn much when we break bread with the raven.

  15. This is sheer genius, Claudia. It says everything about our condition in a microcosm of perfect words. Happy Holidays to you and thank you for this poem.

  16. “mainly it’s the people, isn’t it
    that make a place
    feel home or–“ This is exactly what I have been writing about and I thank you.

    “a little girl with a poppy-red bike pedals by,
    balloon strapped to the handlebar
    heavy wind wrapping her pink-cheek face
    in a thousand well kept secrets” This, of course, is delicious and I even enjoyed that “her smile is crumbs”

    You certainly cast that bread a long way and we all reap the reward as we peel away layer after layer of rich images.

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