So this is the beginning of the Rabid Bat Collective on the web, which is a bigger manifestation than it was as a spoken word thing. It took a lot of time to quell the uprising of the monkey men, this is my excuse for taking so long to start this damn thing. I've also been too busy preparing for the impending zombie apocalypse. All these excuses are now gone, because this is the first post. Here are some poems I wrote a year or so ago to begin.
Brick Stays
above asphalt, concrete
The dirt path narrows and
opens
Leading to a lane where
birds gather more than usual
The ground levels
for a moment, a path opens
through middle grass
he used to walk in pioneer days, the way to his cabin
where a chimney still
survives around tree neighbors
-11/2/09
Indian Giver
In a dig for the rare,
they found more than bones
Turquoise beads, medicine bowls, the sun
The cactus turns, a shadow stretches
like a dog, and midnight starts to run
with sand
The water that evaporated
Rose, a ghost that
hummed, a cricket as the voice
Each grain was red, then green, then black
Each plant was binary
with one side moving and the other looking lifeless
10/12/09
-Grant Blakeslee
