{"id":3075,"date":"2017-07-24T02:35:16","date_gmt":"2017-07-24T02:35:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=3075"},"modified":"2017-07-25T00:16:42","modified_gmt":"2017-07-25T00:16:42","slug":"jeff-bagato-summer-2017","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/jeff-bagato-summer-2017\/","title":{"rendered":"Jeff Bagato, Summer 2017"},"content":{"rendered":"

Imaginary Mind<\/strong><\/p>\n

field of wheat dreams laid
\nout like canker sore on the mouth
\nof a bad lover\u2014the guy who gives
\nbut never takes\u2014and there\u2019s so much
\nto give, so much else after the money\u2019s gone
\nthat you just wish the factory
\ncould reverse gears and take
\nit all away, leaving pure clear
\nimaginary mind alone with itself
\nlike a rock mulled by the ocean\u2014
\nwhere would you be when mind
\nsalt-washed and nowhere\u2014drifting out without
\nBarbie doll eyes to tell you what\u2019s garbage
\nor gold, loose mistakes rising NOW about your
\nankles to cover you NOW with something
\nyou shouldn\u2019t have to see\u2014the distractions
\ngood for something after all, coming down
\nlike god to keep the mind away from the worms\u2014
\nnot a pretty visitor in corridors of gray\u2014
\nand it\u2019s just lucky the world won\u2019t
\nstop trying to impress us
\ninto boa constrictor isolation,
\njust lucky we can revel slowly
\nin supermarket lines that stretch
\ncereal to forever and soda pop
\npast consciousness to a maze\u2014
\nwe got dollar to help skip one step
\nfrom the grave<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The People Next Door<\/strong><\/p>\n

Loaded or laid we get mileage from keeping
\none step ahead of the guy in the next
\nbuilding by snorting or squirting something good
\nwhere it doesn\u2019t belong, but only talking
\nor thinking advancement can be so easy,
\ncause in the mind it never runs up against the hell
\nthat creeps around ankles and numbs the metaphysical\u2014
\nthe people next door just a prayer hedged
\nagainst inflation, a cigarette smoked on the firing
\nline before gunshots in underpants weigh me
\ndown and under; some day I\u2019ve gotta get my gun
\nand hunt my prayers and cigarettes with different
\nintention, catch and holler to supermarket delivery
\non a theme of absolutely true\u2014I\u2019m not a quitter;
\nI haven\u2019t gone and started to believe in neighbors who
\ncan\u2019t possibly be true, who haven\u2019t felt real
\nsince grade school napalm scared me straight
\nto cubicle dominion<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lure of the 70s<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cStolen cookies make a snack
\nfor forging bonds,\u201d Ouija remarks
\nto old lady paying cash for a little
\nfuturistic indulgence; suck \u2018em
\ndown with schnapps & tea\u2014old gal
\nfinds tip in her transcendence,
\nhits corner grocer with the layover pitch\u2014
\nstoop shoulder camouflage
\nnearly gives away the play when stoop
\nslips & granny grabs for pork & beans
\nsupport, hustles sherry for cash
\nquick & easy like Renaissance bath
\nwater, once home springs straight immediate
\n& flips keeblers from coatback
\ninto quaint lazy susan, dialing Mabel
\nwith an invite for this afternoon\u2019s tea\u2014
\ncookies drop twins, & sherry fans
\nthe flames; old ladies cackle
\nmagic and refrigerator studs keep
\ncoming back for more\u2014Ouija
\nsees all, turns away,
\ndisgusted<\/p>\n

The Day of the Dreams and Awakenings<\/strong><\/p>\n

The radio\u2019s dead and gone
\nand I can\u2019t get the dj to sing;
\nthey keep talking
\nlike somehow it will make
\nthem less lonely<\/p>\n

If I\u2019m a madman
\nlet it be<\/p>\n

I\u2019m content to watch my madness\u2014
\nmy only goal<\/p>\n

Heaven help the unmad
\nbecause the mad
\nwill see it through<\/p>\n

Heaven help
\nme\u2014I\u2019m not
\nmad enough<\/p>\n

In my dreams
\nI have broken
\noff into another
\nand this one has
\ntaken all my days<\/p>\n

The radio broke on him;
\nfor him the doors wouldn\u2019t open;
\nhe took the mail,
\nall the blows,
\nand the medicine<\/p>\n

He brushed his teeth
\nand went to bed<\/p>\n

In the grocery store, he
\nslipped all that worthlessness
\nin his pocket<\/p>\n

He found the time, when
\nit was time,
\nto die<\/p>\n

Was there happiness
\nin this\u2014he kept
\nwalking<\/p>\n

How do you disappear from yourself\u2014
\nI did it<\/p>\n

Now I want me back\u2014music
\non my radio<\/p>\n

Asleep into the dreams and
\nstruggling to bring
\nit back alive<\/p>\n

This looks
\nlike the economy
\nof the mad<\/p>\n

We are arriving,
\nthe radio on\u2014
\ndriving around to do all those errands
\nand now back here it\u2019s
\nlike somebody left me and now
\nhe is home<\/p>\n

This day of the dreams
\nand awakenings<\/p>\n

The madness now
\nshudders and I wonder
\nif it will carry me<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Imaginary Mind field of wheat dreams laid out like canker sore on the mouth of a bad lover\u2014the guy who gives but never takes\u2014and there\u2019s so much to give, so much else after the money\u2019s gone that you just wish the factory could reverse gears and take it all away, leaving pure clear imaginary mind […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-3075","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nJeff Bagato, Summer 2017 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/jeff-bagato-summer-2017\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Jeff Bagato, Summer 2017 - 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