January 2, 2016

the tap root dreams of wings




the tap root dreams of wings

Icarus said nothing to anyone 
when he stole for the shine 
wondered if varnish and lacquer enough 
covered knots and grain 
tides and every stain of being 
falling is flying sometimes too 
his tomb could say with a reach...

while it is cold in January 
the Sun is inch worm slow 
its heights are almost attainable 
a much easier tease, a poem 
of chance, pieces you give 
pieces taken, pieces strewn...

even the vigilant fire by the sea 
smells of wings and used to be 
here, wearing Winter's toothed gales 
are the whistling leafless bones of trees 
they reach and retrieve dead things 
like Daedalus does, root tapping dreams...

EJR ©

4 comments:

  1. Weren't we "talking" about this the other day? Or, you wrote something similar ... about the I Man's secret wish to be deep in the dirt rather than high in the sky. Or maybe I'm just imagining the whole thing.

    Regardless, this piece is a stunner. Superb title and opening lines. "When he stole for the shine" ... are you kiddin' me?! That's incredible writing right there, my friend.

    "while it is cold in January
    the Sun is inch worm" ... I was totally expecting to read "the Sun is inch warm" for some reason. I won't tell you what I think that means because it's absurd.

    "a much easier tease, a poem" SO true.

    "of chance, pieces you give" ... I love this as a rewrap line. So it also says, "pieces [that] you give of chance" ... This is when we accidentally give part of ourselves away to those we encounter along the way. Some people, we bump into and then forget. But SOME people make the most ridiculously lasting impression(s). They're the people we never let go of, no matter how much time passes with no contact or reunion. Maybe it's just someone we saw at a train station. Maybe we never even spoke. But something about their demeanor, their dress, etc. ... well, we'll never let go.

    I think it's beautiful to believe that we could each have a personality/appearance/aura strong enough to touch people like that. I have a good/bad habit of walking up to strangers, staring them in the eye, and telling them from deep inside me what pieces of them just spoke to me. Obviously it would primarily be physical, but so what? Sometimes it's more of an aura/personality thing that I notice from afar. But those are the moments people live for ... being told that their magic is visible. We should all try to make other people feel that way ... that they still have "IT" ... whatever that is.

    "even the vigilant fire by the sea
    smells of wings and used to be" ... My goodness, this is gorgeous and so very sad. I think we all feels this when we're in a certain age bracket. I do believe that we can get to the other side of this and rediscover ourselves ... unfortunately it probably happens in the retirement years, when we have more free time. Alas, our bodies will probably be nearly useless by then.

    Have you seen The Curious Case of Benjamin Button? (I haven't, but my husband mentioned it yesterday and it looks awesome.) Anyway, it'd be interesting to change things up like that. Although, no matter what you do, you're the wisest when you're the most useless. There's no way around it. Baby or age-ed. You can't do a whole lot.

    Love this: "wearing Winter's toothed gales"

    "whistling leafless" ... So very close to "whistling lifeless," which makes me think of 1) whistle blowers and 2) whistling at women ... So trying to get attention but then feeling so tired and having just plain given up to the degree that if you get the attention you really just don't have the energy to follow through. Do you think naked trees feel that way? Nature's nude whores, standing on street corners not getting nearly enough attention despite the fact that they're baring it all for the public. Why don't we talk to trees more?! (I guess I'm talking to myself. I think I'm afraid of tic[k]s.)

    "they reach and retrieve dead things" Ha. I won't tell you what I think this means.

    That would be scary to have your dreams peeked at, all the way down to the deepest roots. I wonder if I dream and don't know it. I feel like I don't dream, but surely it happens.

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    Replies
    1. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/14005/14005-h/14005-h.htm

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    2. I'm almost finished, and it's completely captivating. I've read it all aloud to my son, using a British accent. (Don't worry; he's not even two yet, so he has no idea what I'm saying.

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    3. Aside from being hilarious and "ballsy," the tone / writing style is right up my alley. So feel free to suggest additional reading material, books, poems, whatever.

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