Elan Mudrow
Smidgens
Whitman’s Leaves
New city’s children
Too early for maturity
Play upon sheen, oily pavement
Dancing on calloused feet
Barely feeling the heated gravel
Until broken glass reminds them
They are to grow up
Before their time,
Before any time…and
Feed the gullet of infrastructure
Picked from the driest days
A brown spring plucked, to
Produce an eternally chilled
Perpetual youth food, and…
Management, world conditioning
That keeps all matter edible
From the Kuiper Belt to Atlantis
Where Metropole mouths eat
Whatever they want, how they want it
When they want it, even if it doesn’t
Want it…with a thousand
Colors of chalk and charcoal
Clutched in their chimney sweep hands
Drawing hopscotch rules
On top of parking lots
Spread out like barns on the plains, named…
Supermarkets of Lost Foods
Where tattooed hipsters smile
Calming the old children
With sugary whole grains
Warning them of impending
Plastic packaging, pointing to
Green spaces that divide
Handicapped parking from
Silent hybrid auto engines.
Still they shop, grey bearded,
For Whitman’s leaves
in the refrigerated section
23 Comments on “Whitman’s Leaves”
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Elan Mudrow 
An interesting poem – food for thought. And I love the pictures.
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Reblogged this on Crazy Pasta Child.
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Great work Elan! I love it!
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The title led me here. The poem kept me. Great work, indeed!
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thank you. you as well.
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Nice one, Elan!
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Thanks so much, but I must decline. Take care!
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hey poet, I’ve *humbly nominated you for a poetry “challenge”, i’d be honored if you accept; your blog and the writing prompt guidelines are in my latest post. happy midsummer poet. -Sarah
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!!!
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Complex poetry. I love looking for Whitman’s “Leaves” in the refrigerated section. It’s like we can’t see time clearly – past or future – and where present time fits is an enigma. Keeping on hopscotching may be as good an answer as any.
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That is a very fascinating poem on so many levels. I loved the imagery you described.
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Ha ha! I think it’s in the category of universal law.
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Interesting take. I wonder, is gravity a desire?
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If we have made the rules, it is “ego” talking and therefore is transitory. Rules change. Universal laws never change. They are there to be discovered. Search for your own “I AM”voice. Desires are transitory.
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It’s about America or is it?
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Very cool idea, like it.
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I like your take on that particular part of the poem. What if we are searching for something that we have already made up the rules to? Does that count as a search or is it just transitory, something to keep us occupied? What if that effort is the very thing that shapes our demise? It’s kind of like the arc of a lifetime, stretching from desire to desire.
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i loved Whitman and the allusion to him was superb.Great message.
“Drawing hopscotch rules
On top of parking lots” was my favorite line after all we’re all trying to grasp at that childhood that’s denied at whatever cost.
Great post
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Wonderful write, I enjoyed this.
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Nicely crafted, Nicely spoken.
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Thanks so much.
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Interesting poetry. I like the reference to Whitman. Lets just stay young at heart.
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Wonderful and introspective as usual. Yes…reality can rob you very quickly of your childhood. But one must still hang on to its innocence…because it can help you to see without visors, though you may now be a little wiser…albeit “grey bearded”. Thank you again Elan :).
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