Welcome once again to the 55, all. It has been an eventful month, and also a month mired in chaos and distemper. This weekend we get together to add our words to the ongoing pile of all our laments and celebrations, in the form of 55 words, no more, no less. We also do it to remember Galen Hayes, the originator of this meme, as we continue to miss his ever-humorous and supportive presence, as we do all the kickass weekends that seem so long ago.
The rules are unchanged--set down your thoughts in a poem, piece of flash fiction or prose poetry on any subject, in exactly 55 words.
Post the url of the result in the comments below and I will be by to read the result.For those to whom words are coming with difficulty, your absence is forgiven from the heart.
The 55 begins at Thursday midnight and will last til Sunday at 4:00 PM CST.
~*~
Here is my own effort
July in America
The tune that plays tonight
I cannot carry.
Voice
cracks while sirens
robot-howl it
clearer, louder:
the ape-rebooted's song
of darkness
coming.
July's made
of screams
and broken light, of
cloudy poison rising, eyes
shucked oysters
poached in acid tides.
Stars fall dim,
rimmed
with bleeding innocence;
this copper-salt rain
will never wash
us clean.
July 2020
Images: Tear Gas in Portland, Oregon Getty Images Fair Use
Untitled , © Zdzisław Beksiński Fair Use
