June 5, 2012

poem 178 of a poem a day for 2012



a voice carried proxy humanity  
is a me and my shadow luxury

standing in the beach grove 
wade tiding broken glass
left behind bottled emotions
carbon leak gas
from rusted seals
from jagged apathy
from fissures growing
we are hungry for books
and acknowledgement
and every blissful ignorance
we are dependent on the trough
on our wet chattel mind’s lack of graces
we love gauging speculation on
what we’ve already sold
of our soul from our eyes
inside our street corners
trying to instill life
in a solved puzzle on the sofa
we fill ourselves with every
sweet taste of the dark
that can burn promise
to ash by morning light
we are our mental dimensions
we institute a purgatory between them
we become patients and
we wander in the dream gardens after midnight
our taped wrists flap ports of calling madness
we are leaning over the rails and waving at the taxis
they are rolling on by, never once looking over
or appearing to be thinking about stopping
to pick up your fare, my fare, our fare
not fair, we become aware
we become the wear thin
slow dissolve that eventually
is mist in the morning
we are molecular memory 
we are bottom curves
we are a smooth clung birth water
we are dew on the leaves
we are the vessels that desire
can breathe full of
lying in wait with
pieces of each other
we can put together
to last past the Dawn  

EJR ©

8 comments:

  1. The last ten lines are could stand alone, they are that beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. kind of just woke up, middle of the night, having been dreaming of hosting a monty hall-esque gameshow, inundated with spinning landscaped states of mind, complete with door number 3's and fur covered big boxes on stage and that poem was born in a couple of minutes of crawling sand with nary a contraction or pause, and only the warm rain outside the open window soaking it in...thank you as always for perusing the wares...Edward : ^ )

      Delete
  2. we love gauging speculation on
    what we’ve already sold
    of our soul...wow...and the sitting on the couch tasting all the delicacies...temptations....nice...i like the rather gentle close....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. the ending kind of felt like the smile I had after I woke up from a vivid dream and the words just followed me there...gratitude for the commentary

      Delete
  3. A rich monologue of self and other, the nature of desire, of mind and the nature of flesh. Rather resonant for me atm, but regardless, some damn good writing. esp liked
    "..we fill ourselves with every
    sweet taste of the dark
    that can burn promise
    to ash by morning light..."

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. thank you...sometimes I feel the most vulnerable exposing my inner demons...but it does release me as right as rain when I do...gratitude

      Delete
  4. This is wicked! we are our mental dimensions/we institute a purgatory between them...these lines lept off the page at me...you have summed up, for me, every major battle I have ever fought...it goes without saying, most were with myself

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank You for taking the time to say so...I know when I start to feel uncomfortable with where the writing is taking me, often, something wicked this way does comes along...much gratitude...

      Delete