i
The orgone phone booth was planted in 1982
It eventually bid Earth a strange adieu
On a Century 21 night the cut line did ring
Ever since it has been in Saragun Springs
ii
Nothing remains the same upon queer transfer
Therefore this derelict obsolescence won grandeur
It became a conduit of orgone energy
A luminiferous aether cradle is something to be
iii
Yet within its massless aura its birth number remains
Yes for all one song shall always be the same
And although coincidences are seldom divine
You can call the booth 867-5309
vi
Eira’s fey spirit often listens to its shell
Seeking soothing love but finding itchy hell
So she has turned to the splendid billies for help
Four orgone knights are key to the spell
Saragun Springs 
Leila
I love how this poem focuses on an ordinary, abandoned object (some – not me – might even say an unlovely object) – the phone booth – and surrounds it with echoes, reverberations, goings-on, happenings. The Beatles references and allusions give your work an extra level, too, and the abandoned and outdated phone booth itself becomes a kind of magic talisman. Someone once said that John and Paul could write a song about anything, including everyday objects like ashtrays or paperback books. The same kind of magic exists in this poem.
Literature does one of two things (or maybe both) depending on one’s point of view – it either MAKES, or it UNCOVERS, meaning. (I used to think it made meaning; these days, I lean more toward the uncovering aspect, feeling like the meaning is already there, waiting to be revealed.)
You are weaving a spell in this poem!
Dale
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Hi Dale
There are many special things in our world. For me brand new stuff has got to prove itself, but there ‘s something forlon yet magical about phone booths and ancient laundermats. Can’t say what. But it isn’t just memory as it is with the old movie theatres left over from the 30’s.
What I like about poetry is reading a line that connects your mind to certain pathways in the universe. Great music can do that too–Bukowski and his classical music with booze creates its own dimension. That’s a great thing, worth doing even though it seldom pays the rent.
Thank you as always
Leila
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I thought I posted something stupid about orgone, may have been Something is here or gone. If I didn’t, or it has been removed, prolly for the good.
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No, I saw it, liked it–has a link(?)
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Don’t know – brain quit.
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Hi Leila
This is outstanding!
The opening verse snagged my attention! I like how it’s ringing in Saragun Springs. The other worlds are defunct. This reminds me of Stephen King’s “The Dark Tower” how dimensions are crossed.
Saragun Springs is running on orgone. Adding “867-5309” was an awesome touch. The nostalgia of this poem and its transference of power is very artistic. The essence of why poetry is considered the higher or some think the highest form of writing.
Christopher
PS: really liking the Blue Telephone booth.
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Hello Christopher
Thank you kindly. If I only had room I would love to place an old phone booth in my apartment. It is amazing how a common, utilitarian object can become art down the line–kitch mind you, but still art.
Thanks again
Leila
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