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RUGS ON PUDDLES COATS OVER OCEANS is a collection of original poems and lyric poetry, written over a span of over twenty years, 1991 through 2013. dates of origin of the poems are noted as well as dates or years of edits and rewrites – they are a part of each poem’s autobiographical identity. all lyric poems exist as fully realized songs and have been written and recorded with kimann’s husband and song-writing partner, michael l. schultz
April 14, 2021 poem written upon the mass shooting in my hometown last night:
My muse came crawling Let me have it I can take it Say it What dog-eared journaled pages lie Supplicant recipients Of words and songs and thoughts and psalms And all that might Remain best or better left unsaid Say it Intended for no one Meant for all Stories mine For ends of time For no one, just the same Never going But moving forward backwards forward My muse whispered to me I can take it I understand Say it How blessed to be familiar With what cuts clean and deepest To shine a light On all that might Remain best or better left unsaid Say it Lay to paper Heart and soul Blood and gore Tears to flow Unfettered unchecked unguarded Re-crafted into scratches Which lean onto each other Lined up soldiers With spaces soldered Points and hooks and hesitations Ends to leads and recitations How good to go with muse unearthed How sorrowful to slog without, unbirthed To claim alone And lay one’s stone By legacy of unrequited hurt They just don’t know Have not been told Their own, willing muses lurk But need to be invited in Open it Christmas Easter Fairy tales Sunshine Flowers Father Mother Rest And sleep How funny How ironic The beauty of this day shines all the brighter In mortality contrasted With the midnight baring that happened here, again Dammit One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Yes, and Nine I wrote a horror short the other day As dark as I could make it I heard the news this morning I’ve got nothing on this commonplace Screw it Words parading as… Deeds posing as… Good intentions quick to warp… Reversed, inverted banners flown Hanging high and wide Gathering? No, They are tearing, weeping, sowing… And still too few see things for what they are Fewer yet can Say it Mourn the one lost Mourn the innocent Equal measure For they are won And have been reaped And have been gathered.