sequoias in essex, england

conradconrad

either... desperately seek constipation
         via
pretend (ing) to spill more ink
than - by any stretch of the imagination /
by a needle prick too - blood
given: it's not exactly paper that's
wasted...
                times are dire...
we need toilet paper
                               and not newspapers:
or at least let's pretend
we would like some coal -
   otherwise this neon insomnia will
bury me in a brrr of brittle cold...
                      but that's just that...
nothing new to write so a morning
with a ms. amherst of sorts -
             as you do... when nothing's new...
so as i see it...
i either sit here and waste a perfectly
good wintry morning...
pretending to ooze out an aflation...
   clearly i'm not: brain-fudge-fidgety
yes... custard for thought and
oozing nuggety gravy too, yes...
          all that's missing is a rubric /
slanting linear of some verbiage
baggage (un)like a rhetorician invoking
tautology...
   the air should be refreshing
since it rained all night...
       yes... come to think of it...
these legs will give me more ease
by being put to use than these fingers -
i should have them broken
and this "piano" dropped on
  a fat head of a cow - or something of
the sort...
besides... from the white tower
of havering-atte-bower...
        to that luminous tower past chigwell
i'm guessing in the direction of woodford
or i suppose wanstead...
but no... it couldn't be the galleon &
heronwood hospital...
   but it just might...
               a little / more an odd pilgrimage
to... circa 1999's summer
with the flooding of memory of "someone"...
at least a walk that will span
the horizon of what i can see...
  mind you...
       there's something else...
i don't know why i'm invoking a direct
addressee with these words...
   mind i... at first the name seemed appropriate...
that these were: aspen trees...
they weren't aspen... they're not...
and sure as shit i know what an acorn is...
and an acorn nor an oak they ain't either...
unless you were to walk
down... parkway just by Raphael Park...
on the corner...
   this contender to...
   sierra redwoods...
                        yep... north h'american big
trees...
          sequoias...
   in havering-county park...
         oh i'm guessing circa two dozen...
           i even hoped to stick a jelly-gum
to a piece of paper and onto each of these
trees to give them quasi nicks'...
sequoias... in essex, england...
               i'm not mistaken
                               but still dumbfounded
one of those 'huh?!' moments that's
beside awe: awe is not necessary...
              that much is certain...
   this had to be written anything had
to be written and better still no ink no paper
just enough electricity to
compete with a coffee-mill's worth
of 3 cups / and the kettle that boiled
three cups of water...
   come to think of it... probably less.

  • Author: conradconrad (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 11th, 2020 05:09
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 39
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Comments3

  • ANGELA & BRIAN

    Brian here ~ Good Evening CONRAD ! Love the poem ! I visited COLCHESTER and one of the roads was called *REDWOODS* I couldnt believe my eyes ~ There they were the "Sequoias in Essex* it took me back to California ! There are lots of other things in Essex ~ including Essex Girls* But I can say hand on heart ~ I have seen the *Sequoias in Essex* alive & well and *Living in Colchester* Loved the Poem ~ thanks for sharing. Please check our Poem today *THE INCARNATION* ~ Thanks A & B !

    Blessings & Peace too You & Yours
    Love Angela Brian & Smokey Cat ! ! !

  • Jerry Reynolds

    Enjoy your trees. Happy Holidays

  • L. B. Mek

    'nothing new to write so a morning
    with a ms. amherst of sorts -
    as you do... when nothing's new...
    so as i see it...
    i either sit here and waste a perfectly
    good wintry morning...
    pretending to ooze out an aflation...
    clearly i'm not: brain-fudge-fidgety
    yes... custard for thought and
    oozing nuggety gravy too, yes...
    all that's missing is a rubric /
    slanting linear of some verbiage
    baggage (un)like a rhetorician invoking
    tautology...
    the air should be refreshing
    since it rained all night...
    yes... come to think of it...
    these legs will give me more ease
    by being put to use than these fingers'
    well I'm grateful, you chose to gift us a small sample before turning to your long walks for some 'ease',
    a brilliantly - rollercoaster journey of a read!



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