Because I’m Feeling Mushy

God’s Country
JCD Kerwin

We made Babylon once.

We built statues out of blocks and
found our way to the promised land
via an old map I found in the trash.
I wore my father’s hat and you
went barefoot.

We asked nomads for change and
scribbled songs in the sand
while we danced
in shadows under the sun.
In the evenings we picked
forbidden apples from trees we planted
in the hanging gardens of our dreams.

We watched the Tower fall
and made up secret languages
we knew we’d hear one day
on opposite ends of the Earth.

You drank the poison because I told you to.
I remember you died and I
breathed the same dust the buildings did;
they all crumbled when we fell.

You woke up first and left me behind,
but now we run around the world
looking for new ways to build our Babylon.
We haven’t found one yet,
but I won’t give up on antiquity.

Dec., 2011

Made for Nomads

One of my short stories was rejected. On the Fourth of July (which was awful in its own right). I wallowed in my woe-is-mes for a while before throwing back a Jack and shaking off the dirt. That’s that. Now it’s forward again.

Anyway, here’s a poem from Aug. 2011

Made for Nomads
J.C.D. Kerwin

And now I’m a wasteland:
a landscape of sparse vegetation
and temporary fires
for the world to pass by
and forget I was,
an ocean.