Andre De Dienes - 'Nude Montage', 1956 |
"i'll chain myself to a crag too
inside cauldron theater
pleasingly eating you..."
i wear her posterior between
the paddling(s) and plump(s)
plum age and plunder
asunder and surrender
she dressed cowl and salt lick
asked if she was delicious enough
to spoon the honey yet
and would i mind
putting the kettle
on for tea
the nighthawks
are gathering
on the old lodge pine poles
out back and i'm waiting with them
to capture the leaps from tall grass
of lyrical leggy song-ed insects...
see how they skim she said between sips
i nodded noticed they worked the underbelly
bat orchestrations, gloaming keen
forked tongue shrill and tail
dart gather and lean...
what kinds of birds do you like, she asks
i trace my forefinger across her knee
slowly raising my eyes to see an expression
my nose already knows, as i say
there beyond your carnage
of crickets, hoppers
and past this
wood frame and glass
is something that reminds me
of a woman's ass
there in a wee marsh
that feeds the river
and eventually the sea
are freshwater reeds
cattails and canary grass mostly
and inside them
readying for bed is
a plump
of waterfowl
and their needs
they are clock work too
i suppose like you
and your little raptors
right now they shimmy and press
slow coal glow grinding
the day into diamonds
bottom-ing out where
evening is singing
quiet darkening
warm up notes
and is beginning
to listen to us now
because we are
loud dancers at night
and the window's open
wishing again we knew
the mathematics of wings...
EJR ©
This is ripe and lush and full of fecund imagery. This is you, poet, at your best...
ReplyDeletesometimes, when this poet actually starts to listen, I am lucky enough to be gifted by all these incredible muses that are interspersed throughout the Universe...
DeleteWhoa... this is amazing!!!
ReplyDeleteThank You...sometimes I luckily catch myself paying attention with a keyboard or a pen on the ready...
DeleteLush is a good word for this. And I love how you went from birds to raptors toards the end. Also, "grinding the day into diamonds" is a pretty cool line.
ReplyDeletelittle scents that draw the softening warmth of flowing blood into the hardest parts of us...ooh, good prompt you...gratitude...
DeleteI admire the conversations between the two and specially the ending lines:
ReplyDeleteslow coal glow grinding
the day into diamonds
bottom-ing out where
evening is singing
quiet darkening
This is certainly more than just about the gathering of nighthawks ~ Superb write Edward ~
portals open and close bubbles and blooms all the time, all we've to do is surrender sometimes...elliptical chances taken as playing in the color schemes of awe...yeah, you can say I like to look at the stars and dream...many thanks for stopping in...
DeleteThis is just overflowing with images, thoughts...all the senses. These lines spoke to me:
ReplyDelete"the nighthawks
are gathering
on the old lodge pine poles
out back and i'm waiting with them
to capture the leaps from tall grass
of lyrical leggy song-ed insects..."
Like Grace said, there is much more here than the activities of the nighthawks.
Gayle ~
to me, magic adheres to vision if we're willing to close our eyes...
DeleteI was merely trying to loose garment lens an emotional scented spiritual state that had sexy bits sprinkled throughout...incorrigible satyr poet at times am I...thank you for commenting...and stopping by
I love this:
ReplyDelete"plum age and plunder
asunder and surrender
she dressed cowl and salt lick
asked if she was delicious enough"
But no "one" ever is.
"to capture the leaps from tall grass" What if she's not "leaping ... in-sex" anymore? (Very clever, by the way.)
I already told you this is my favorite part:
"what kinds of birds do you like, she asks
i trace my forefinger across her knee
slowly raising my eyes to see an expression
my nose already knows"
"there in a wee marsh
that feeds the river
and eventually the sea
are freshwater reeds" ... I don't know why, but today, the we-marsh that feeds everything else is just made of tears.
"readying for bed is" ... In this, I see "re-dying, red, bed eyes." Crying herself to sleep.
Still ... this made me smile:
"a plump" ... Which is a P-lump, which is her clitoris ... and it also makes me think of the song "My Humps" by The Black-Eyed Peas. ... So "waterfowl" or foul water would be some related kind of gush. :P
"they are clock work too" This is a Clockwork Orange reference.
"slow coal glow grinding" I like this line, the way it sounds, the image.
"bottom-ing out where" Very funny, going back to the bum at the beginning.
"evening is singing
quiet darkening" It is.
"wishing again we knew
the mathematics of wings" I do. ~Wish I knew.
Incredible poem, Edward. Sorry I've "bottomed out" today. My lows are as low as my highs are high. They're tough to survive.
Oh, but the cowl and salt lick outfit ... that was probably my favorite part. Earlier today, it was a hood and sweat, but tonight it's a blanket and tears. That's the magic of poetry; it means something completely different every time you read it. Thank you for writing this; it's inspired everyone to up their game, I'm sure.
daughter of electra
Deleteiris spread wings
her poems in rainbows
after the storms
Dexter Gordon on a 33
it smells of damp dust
slate grey back sky lit
rust and fire
you say can you taste
the poems outside
beading up on things
thirsty for the sun
thank you for saying such
not sure about the upping the game part
I think of myself as more selfish
less inspirational but I do appreciate
hearing it said...
daughter of electra
Deleteiris spread wings
her poems in rainbows
after the storms
Dexter Gordon on a 33
it smells of damp dust
slate grey back sky lit
rust and fire
you say can you taste
the poems outside
beading up on things
thirsty for the sun
thank you for saying such
not sure about the upping the game part
I think of myself as more selfish
less inspirational but I do appreciate
hearing it said...
the universe wanted me to say that twice
DeleteThis is a wonderful rich conversation - brimming with tethered passion.. Just like that fire
ReplyDeleteyes I am prone to thieving the squeeze of night beneath the dawn...gratitude
DeleteI love the sound bumps you've uncovered here. Words just adore each other sometimes, and it is a true pleasure to read their couplings.
ReplyDeleteI especially love this thought:
"wishing again we knew
the mathematics of wings"
YES.
my inner Icarus...I tend to sneak it into a lot of poems...
DeleteThank you. :) It's such fun when the things that delight me also delight others. I loved reading everybody's inspiration on this prompt.
DeleteAnd I, too, am a lover of Icarus. Just wrote about him again last week, actually. ;)
You're welcome, and yes Icarus and Persephone would make beautiful dance partners with their opposite directional flowing dynamics, clock wise clock fool counter late at night bright white neon diner on a spinning no back seat...good sub-textual prompt...
DeleteArt and muse
ReplyDeleteone iN liFe
without
as death
iN art
oF paint
and words..
and yeah.. baby..
i take advantage of
iT too.. the max.. and
It sHows In word
count
and photos
trUe.. tHeRe iS
a science to creatiViTy..
leave out the sex..
and tHeir
Is not
much
depth..
of what
makes
iT aLL..:)