Dates and Figs (Draft 10)

Dates and Figs (Draft 10)

Naked truths
and shooting stars
with canned laughter

There is news in the dry laugh:
an embarrassed meteor, pitfalls
destiny dates, though

fig leaves do fall in pithy days with you
moist giggles in the morning dew

The can of dates is on sale
with the occasional pit
due to pitiful errors

But we have the era of
figments of imagination
the dried fig sweet when
meteors fall and we

collect meteor char
for the barbecue grill, though
no one has any
grilling questions, or
a steak in the truth fire

no one knows the source
of the delicious delusion sauce
that is the medium of solace

Media lies are very comforting
with vegetables and 16 ounce sodas
un-French fries with doomburgers
and saving trivia

Repent and save
a calorie in end times

Eat your vegetables or be
hit with a drone, but

we will hide in ourselves together
indulge in our poetry with a rhythm
and smile when we lick a bit of cherry pie
off our faces with
billions of calories

— Douglas Gilbert

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5 thoughts on “Dates and Figs (Draft 10)

  1. From draft 1 to draft 10 – Wow, that’s a lot of drafts! Well I think it’s turning out great, I like all the new changes. “with the occasional pit due to pitiful errors” I liked the ‘processing’ before but the word pitiful sounds better because of the ‘pit’. Ahh…i love “moist giggles in the morning dew”. And of course i love the new stanza at the end. Cherry pie…yummm!!

    1. Thanks very much. It’s become much less abstract. I’m glad I added a personal element because I think it’s more engaging. Yikes, that was a close call — without the spell check I would have gagged on my comment with “engagging” instead of engaging.

      1. engagging…hehe. Yeah, my spell check used to work better or maybe i just paid more attention to it or something because lately i’ve been misspelling all sorts of things. I bet what I really need is a grammar corrector instead of a spell checker. Then when I completely forget to type a word it will alert me that my sentence makes no sense. I think the most recent mess up was the other comment I made this morning. I think i forgot a ‘you’ in there or something…i’ll have to go look.

    2. Yeah a grammar corrector would be nice. I think they’ll need a supercomputer for that, or maybe not — they used to have these odd animals or creatures they used to call teachers or editors. Maybe someone can venture into the wilds and find one of these. Spell check is always going to say that “to”, “too,” and “two,” are all spelled correctly no matter what context someone is using them in. I’ve noticed there are a few sentence checkers but they are idiotic because they label all complex sentences as “run on.” They say really stupid things something like “Don’t you think this sentence is too long; can you consolidate” or some such; it’s good for twitter I suppose, limited to 20 words and a reference. Oh nuts. Sentences, gracefully elaborated, embellished with the sounds of glorious triumph, with cacophonous instruments of drunken loquacious musicians strung out on their heart strings, these birds and cats playing around with joyful noise, sentences gracefully making every trill a wave to glory, oceanic, and pray tell, if I may continue, the words of the angels are infinite and concise like love that sings forever charming and as elaborate as is a sentence to joy, many times re-phrased, re-claused like a Santa Clause whose mythology endures way beyond his run away sleigh, bells of grace reverberating with every sentence pronounced by judges and supplicants gracefully joined in symphony, in sympathy, in empathy, and on every path to any pathy even daffy, because the complex can be simply wonderful like you all.

    3. OOOps, OK, There is one thing I have to fix to make it not run-on. Sentences, gracefully elaborated, embellished with the sounds of glorious triumph, with cacophonous instruments of drunken loquacious musicians strung out on their heart strings, these birds and cats playing around with joyful noise, sentences gracefully making every trill a wave to glory, oceanic, are not runaways, being ensconced in dreams, and pray tell, if I may continue, the words of the angels are infinite and concise like love that sings forever charming and as elaborate as is a sentence to joy, many times re-phrased, re-claused like a Santa Clause whose mythology endures way beyond his run away sleigh, bells of grace reverberating with every sentence pronounced by judges and supplicants gracefully joined in symphony, in sympathy, in empathy, and on every path to any pathy even daffy, because the complex can be simply wonderful like you all.

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