Alice's hope rode into town and spun and turned and wound my mind around...
hope for the future
or regret of the past
both hold our helpless
awaiting first and last
dreams pulling from back
and front to any when
but the one that we rack
our selves on to defend
to any death that will
do the dance do the jig
that we love to watch
but can not stand to rig
our selves into as if
we’d rather dig the whole
inside and pitch what
comes out of any bowl
we do not turn ourselves
at all the gifts given
spinning into before
and after these riven
wishes ride on jealous
horses and draw and quarter
these moments that we
give away steal or barter
but cannot seem ourselves
into
we huddle
our hope springs
eternally birthing beasts
from the ground dreams
of all our ancestors
spindrift
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A Prayer Like Gravity 
Wow Wow Wow. Brilliant. You got it. Thanks for this response poem. Your untangle of the tangle tells me even than those initial twists I wrote. I’ve written two other poems and a couple of essays in the past 24 hours in my efforts to sort out this mystery. I’ve always felt a secret dismay and betrayal around the concept of hope. All the best. Great work. Alice
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Tangled dismay and betrayal….felt A.
Thank you.
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Yup. Been wading in those waters a while now. Makes for GOOD poetry.;-)
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Oh.My.God. JCC, this is fantastic. I also read the post that prompted this, and it is a perfect response to it. LOVE.
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Thank you Susan!
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absolutely fascinating.
so nice to be able to visit you again and witness the brilliance of your words.
thank you, JC!
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You are, as usual Miri, too kind. Thank you.
Nice to see you too!
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