The Scattered and Anonymous
not a pool poem
Here we are, already in May. Like deep in… not just dipping our ankles in… but all the way immersed. So far, here in Colorado May has been snow storms, dry days that go on forever, and temperate warm weather. Now, we are entering the time of heat.
I actually missed summer, real summer, when I lived in San Francisco for decades. Though it took awhile for it to dawn on me, that I missed it. I’m a bit that way… kind of lost in some space world and not really worrying about the weather that much, one way or another. Until one day, it dawns on me… I miss summer. Not shorts, they are dorky — but the heat, the sweating, the walking in search of a summer party, the pools! Or the possiblity of pools. The dream of a pool. I’m getting ahead of myself though. We are only just entering that time now. Pools are not yet open. Not that I actually can swim much. But I dream of water, I consider taking swimming lessons each time I enter a pool. And, actually, if truth be told — I don’t enter them often. But I always enjoy them when I do.
And today, a poem. Written during NaPoWriMo, just last month — April. Not at all a pool poem.
The Scattered and Anonymous They are particular and observant of change yet without hope unvested and entirely rootless without interest not coping— With shallow defense mechanisms scared of prophecy When they hunt— the lure is alabaster— a transmission of light to entangle song a vestigial wound with bright hanging blood spores 2 (start) racking it up inside this stiletto asylum where wind weaves our lungs into cross-spaces BE what they cannot imagine in a velvet night dream that scrawls over and across the sky typewriter bohemian ancillary god-lure in an aqueduct — may potent space quivers light up our eyes and separate us from the —hopeless Max Wolf Valerio, April 28, 2026 NaPoWriMo 2026
Until we meet again, stay WEIRD. The magic is coming for all of us — sooner than we know.
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