March 16, 2016

there you are my breeding brevity aka a poet collar and sleeves

Young girl eating a bird (The pleasure)
Rene Magritte, 1927





in the great vault 
where every response was met 
with a hungry dict-a-phone 
we ran out of wax cylinders 
and started melting dolls
aah my fleeting face-let 
did you get that i spied you 
painting with bark 
and how i am so smitten 
and bitten by and with you...

your voice in the dark 
the dark in your voice 
dark in your voice bathing me 
in thirsty light, a match perhaps 
free will quickly spreading to my fingers 
as i swear allegiance to oxygen
and when i breathe in, gauze lattice desperate at first
water knows my limitations 
when it comes to human ritual inner time 

i am and have been talking 
jumping in and lens-ing past 
where the safety net ends 
leaning in to the swirl 
the way the stage countenance changes 
hearing herring hurrying from blade to sin 
but foregoing a faux goad i have gone with it
as if each response then delete completed another you
another little bridge to other parts of your play 
long con no con chili con carne 
no, i am and have been talking 
to a faceless you
with many names 
bleeding inwardly  and outwardly 
meaning nothing 
yes i am so imperfect 
a lothario at times 
an uncaring cad 
a gadfly a stick in your eye 
i bargain the raw 
parts of my story 
to stay selfish
in the silence 
of my soul just before 
i pretend to inherit  
these bones i did steal 
and meant to call mine

so who knows 
if i talk to everyone 
or no one 
or just you 
or by goblin market loving my nose 
i stay the snow i've shoved up it 
or how i keep witnessing shit spit here
where again i am no one and it would seem 
i did not care enough for your noticing or remarking back 
in time enough to satisfy your chorus behind the sun...

so perhaps 
i was just a hat 
or a feather that 
might have been
and you a cat, 
seen or not how
in the marrow bells 
you are now
seeking to hear 
the music of 
in someone 
else's morning


EJR ©



52 comments:

  1. Don't melt the dolls. That makes me sad. :(

    I like this (especially the reversal lines, flip-flopping "voice" and "dark" the way you did; very nice:

    "i am so smitten
    and bitten by and with you...
    your voice in the dark
    the dark in your voice
    dark in your voice bathing me"

    And these:

    "where the safety net ends
    leaning in to the swirl"

    "yes i am so imperfect
    a lothario at times
    an uncaring cad
    a gadfly a stick in your eye
    i bargain the raw
    parts of my story
    to stay selfish
    in the silence
    of my soul"

    "i stay the snow i've shoved up it"

    You're not a hat. Or a that. Or anything else made of letters. Just mazes I think.

    The only mourning music I'm listening to is my own.

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  2. mazes...hmmm now that is a funny and blissful bit of cheese

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  3. Which kind do you prefer to scratch-sniff-n-follow, Little Pinocchio? Colby Jack, if you're like me.

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    Replies
    1. parmigiano vacche rosso is all time favorite but a good vermont colby jack is heavenly when melting over thinly sliced slightly seared vegetables...an american nubby alpine raclette really...but still delicious and willing to share the palette with other foods

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    2. but sometimes i have to lie as still as i do in an mri to catch the scent trail...

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    3. so here i am conversing not rehearsing as if another drill

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    4. with myself fighting the locks at the window sill

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  4. You're funny. :)

    Your Italian-ness makes me swoon. So stop it. :P

    "drill" = "Dr. Ill"

    "mri" = "Mr. I" and also "rim" and also "irm," which is an arm that has something very wrong with it ;)

    ... and also, with a stretch, "mire"

    "Mr. I" = "mystery"

    "mystery" = mist, airy (or reverse it for an airy mist) ... or if you're feeling kinky, then "stare at Y" which I can't help but see as a handstand girl's legs ... But is she in gymnastics, a cheerleader, doing yoga? So many questions, so few quests.

    There are locks on the window sill when the window's ill. Are you a doctor? I can see the movie, playing in my head right now; and it doesn't end well for a patient who sees a doctor who calls himself Dr. Ill. :) Especially if he medicates her with cheese and broken languages.

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  5. Do you have a restaurant?

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    Replies
    1. no, just a love of cooking

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    2. are we having a conversation...?

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    3. i'll just close my eyes so there is no need for a face to voice...

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    4. kNoW: just / a love / of coo-king

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    5. That depends. Is it a conversation without having any con, verse, or shun involved?

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    6. cooing
      pigeons
      crown
      kings
      the empress eats well

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    7. Yes, it is such a conversation...so much so that I will even use an almost proper punctuation.

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    8. but i cannot promise poems won't spill out

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    9. pretty witty sister
      i just had to bite
      even if it meant
      stealing dorothy's bike

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  6. I have the most adorable metal pinkness in my driveway. Handlebar tassels and all. Peace signs. Hearts. Glow-in-the-dark pedals. I wish it were mine ... or at least that I could ride it somewhere gooey. I don't know why "gooey's" the word, but it feels right. Like muddy and slimy, earthy and mucky. Fignights get lucky. But she's six, and I'm not. So, you see my conundrum. Do you play the drums? No? Well what then? Besides people ...

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    Replies
    1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2u2GKqA0UZs

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    2. learned to play bass drum, trumpet and alto horn in marching bands until high school...then found lyrics more suited to how the universe in music sounds from inside me...

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    3. I LOVE this music. Give me more songs.

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    4. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8iRLFlpIDc

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    5. In high school, Christa and I were going to start an all-girl band called Wet. I was going to play drums ... and she, bass guitar. We had a couple of other friends picked out to join in. None of us played anything, however. But I was so committed to the project that I saved $800 to buy drums. No one else did anything toward making things happen, so Wet never actually came to fruition.

      In my twenties, I was also part of a faux band for a group Halloween costume once. We called ourselves Delicate Smack. I bought pleather pants, a sequined spaghetti-strap top, and black boots. I also put those wet-rag sticker tattoos all over myself. We made concert flyers and hung them all over the place---on walls, buildings, poles, etc. No instruments, though. Just some serious attitude, which you know I've got in spades. ;)

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  7. What's your favorite chess piece? And pie? And math problem? And type of music? And muse?

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    Replies
    1. queen, sweet potato, fibonacci's sequence, jazz and calliope

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    2. so this is where i ask you, what is it you seek beyond definition...?

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    3. All these small people in my house want my ears right now, and even though I want to give them to you, along with my mouth, I have to sacrifice myself. To be continued ...

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    4. you have a love of entendre...

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    5. Been doin' it since I could talk. It's what comes out, every time I open my mouth. Which is why I try, oh so hard, to keep it closed up, nice and tight. Alas, the dribbling continues. ;)

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    6. i catch that like "early morning rain"

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    7. I miss having friends who enjoy it, so that's nice to hear. I hate having to try to hold it in.

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  8. The last thing I want is definition, other than of a moment's vibrations, maybe. What I want is for my brain to be given the chance to explode as many times a day as possible. I don't want to "do something with my life." I just want my brain to be active and excited with twists and revelations, even if fictional. Wasting my life would be letting my brain go to waste.

    I also want to listen to as much yummy music as I can find. I also want freedom, which, of course, is a state of mind.

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    Replies
    1. honest without biography, nice
      like the red buds of a maple tree

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    2. besides i already suspected you preferred un-congealed to congealed...

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    3. Oh yeah, I'd way rather drink my Jell-O.

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    4. well you have a point there...

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    5. Ha. Now the entendre's on you.

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  9. Now you answer your question. What do you seek ... beyond definition?

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    Replies
    1. wanting every waking second to be in awe...the clung fabric(s) of it...its scent(s), its feel and all the sights and sounds between to touch me and take me where i don't have to wear words...

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    2. thundery rain here, big bellowing rumbles

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    3. I'm so jealous. On a number of levels.
      And yes, I catch your reference.
      I don't miss much, as you might have noticed.

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    4. Are you going to delete all of this?

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  10. I find it so interesting that you want freedom from your words, when they're so ... kapow; just, EVERYTHING. ~To me, anyway. But sometimes I wish them away too ... my words, the torment, the constant chatter inside my head, the inability to just look at a sentence like a normal person and not see a zillion tiny worlds explode inside every statement. It's difficult for me to have a straight conversation, no "extras."

    "the clung fabrics" ... I can feel this, a delicate hanging. Also the sea lungs inside. And the fey/fairy bricks. Floating bricks, obviously.

    See what I mean? It's a constant hallucination behind my eyes. Thanks for visiting for a while.

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  11. I do appreciate the throwing me a straight edge to the parabolic curves...

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    Replies
    1. That makes me think of giving you a shave, up your throat, you know? The old-fashioned way.

      https://youtu.be/qEQsxCnnLLM

      Do you know this movie? If you do, you know the scene I'm thinking of.

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    2. Yes vaguely, was it hair up hand on throat fostering of a gear neck..?

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    3. Yes "a" Gere neck Fostered by hair and hand, certainly pointing upward ... a little bit frightened, I'm sure, when Miss Jodie was sleuth slicing around those "parabolas."

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