Poetica Obscura: Woodstock and Motown
These poems are from a series inspired by reading Atlas Obscura stories while listening to a music genre randomly selected from my list. I hope you enjoy these. If so, it means everything if you’d support my work (unlike Medium, ahem).
The True Glory of Woodstock Is That They Managed to Clean Up So Well
(article here: https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/woodstock-cleaned-up-well-archaeology)
Motown
The True Glory of Woodstock Is That They Managed to Clean Up So Well
Motown
we bury, we bury
a spark of beauty
an organism
a voice cast out
of a helicopter
a smeared voice
banned from halcyon
we bury fire pits,
tire swings, the innocence
of drugs
we look to the strata
for friendship bracelets,
statues of venus and the buddha,
a braid of sweetgrass
we unearth we were all of us tired
and the ghost-sleep of strangers
on farmland and screaming guitars
and talking about hanoi
and hotel balconies and astronauts
in quarantine and sharon tate
god, we were young then
we were tired from all the burying
now we are tired
from all the unearthing
You can find me at http://www.erinlyndalmartin.com or on Twitter at @erinlyndal.
WRITTEN BY
Writer, painter. Atlas Obscura, Spiritualist erotica, bees, magic. http://erinlyndal martin.com. Twitter@erinlyndal. Tip jar http://paypal.me/ErinLyndalMartin
