Some Words Will Open Microphones by Sam Flot

Some Words Will Open Microphones

Spark a ride to the other tide

Receptive to tough and to tender

Eccentric mystics

Playing music in concentric mosaics 

Ripping and tearing the notes

Through the ever-continuum nightsky

Flying full of the effervescent flow of colors

Flowing all over, all around, everybody’s a primary!

Even the secondaries should get to be primary

Once in a while, twice in a while

Mark that tide when you took the ride

Perceptive against too rough or to render it into

Words speak spoken riding on the topical current

Drifting through the vapors surrounding the other poets

Listening at varying levels of completely

Some still pay full attention

Some drift off like in detention

Writing down riffs off all the pretension

Some are rifling through all their folders and notebooks

Trying to find their very own howling screed unscrolled

Their if/perchance holy goof unveiled full force

With a double-shot americano and some real jazz

Which will house

The eccentric mystic prophet of a spirit and

Some words will open microphones

Split like a Sunday

With a five-hour drive home

Before the tide gets too high

flot  

2.8.2016

Brother Bird by Sam Flot

Brother Bird

(Serene Time Ocean)

I flew with my brother bird

Early one afternoon sunny

Above the headlands’ long fallow fields

Laden with mice and yellow brown straw brush

All of it surrounded by gulley green

Happily transporting yesterday’s storm downhill

I flew with my brother bird

Climbing by floating

Finding circles of wind drafting up

Then we soared into that wind, not against it

Wings stretched full to span

The wind holds me in place

Holds me in basic stasis

My matter held windblown

Under no efforts of my own

I flew with my brother bird

Gently pacific above

Serene time ocean

Waves crashing in all the gradient shades

All the blues and most of the greys

I flew with my brother bird

We were solemn, neither of us spoke a word

Early one afternoon sunny

Against a storm front backdrop

Over all the pines and scrubs

Over the shore break rocks

Above the headland waves crashing white fury

I flew with my brother bird

sam flot

Caspar, CA                                     1.10.2016