How many notes to self can you take?
A road nobody drives for pleasure.
Scan the dial for something
sung in drawl. Get out & walk.

The older you get, the fewer options
still tempt you: the wet membranes through which
light enters our heads versus the eardrum,
coins in a fountain versus coins in a jar.
And if you want to feel every note
you find a desert, even one small as a banjo head
or unreachable as the moon.
You go to a tattoo shop
& ask them to take dictation
on the parchment of your arm.
Don’t try to explain.
This isn’t that kind of trip.

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Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

No Comments

  1. Kia ora Dave,
    It is the difference between Lady Gaga and David Grisman. A metter of perspective.


  2. I like this, especially how it returns to “notes to self” and all the ways it can be read.

    I’m glad to see another banjo poem, as I’ve really enjoyed the series. I thought about these poems when I saw a banjolele–a ukelele-sized and -tuned banjo. I guess it’s what happens when banjos head off to paradise.


    1. Yes, there seems to be a bit of banjo ukelele cross-over these days. I am not sure that’s entirely a good thing…

      I have my doubts about the banjo series, too, as a matter of fact, but I do hope to keep plunking away at it. Glad you’re reading.


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