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| Cloning Eve/Viagra Falls, 1999 Masami Teraoka © |
cellar-ed\/cask-ed ripe(s)
bargain :
get away with
muster courage enough
pray prey
every god
and goddess
who decided
to stay human
too long
hope:
it isn't always all
subtext sexual
mythological references
but it is
darn near close
to that
vat crawl
tide flow
spawn velvet on a rope
fob light at night
entertained right
event horizon
enticed
falling is flying
spaghetti-fied innards
stream data
meta hunger
energy is constant
form is not
norm is rot
find your reality
shell yours mine
or at least
put jagged teeth
on the brittle
electrons
hip holster hugged
she swore by
a 357 and Chrysler Imperial
black on black chrome
red lined tires
it was
her Persephone
get up
you saw I saw
nose banquet guests
the ways we spill
morning dagger fights
last night
in height
then plunge
review charted
glow billow
bellow low
forno
vacation
placation
blank canvas thoughts
terra cotta roofs
dot tree lined
vineyard plots
drip wobble fabric
coming from tonguing
the mountains
and sky
rivers
silt
salts
between us
and them
altar room
in the valleys
enough to play
every god and goddess
church that
may deed someday
come to know
some one
above maybe
or might be
tertiary
planetary
osmosis glove
inside baby
inside the
outside
of love's
first time
I shove a bit
you say it
is, a bitten world
there are boundaries
brandished plates
hate
and distrust
seasonal
rentals ready
steadily increased
in intensity
and ability ... love
as an incremental ornament
memento sunrise recollection
peddler lane pushcart Moon
siphoning humanity's joy
ritual hitched hiccups herd
looped lunar laconic ruptured
solarium daedaleum
we cut ourselves
to wash
and writhe
animate \cinema- consume
here is served
too slow to notice
as we would
a smile
as a child
when we used to be
somewhat more innocent
and not capable
of being
or b ecoming
old pearls
EJR ©
I really like this section:
ReplyDelete"as an incremental ornament memento sunrise recollection peddler lane pushcart Moon siphoning humanity's joy ritual hitched hiccups herd looped lunar laconic ruptured solarium daedaleum we cut ourselves to wash and writhe"
Thank you, this one wrote itself falling back into an a muse-ing energy field ... a staccato petal forest of knifed fingers, warm just right porridge, rhythm and purpose intertwined, rust and other fires that take time, you find fined is surrender's power of behold ... though that is just my perspective ... seems color is an elective ... but that section was definitely meant to invoke a feel of the twirl images of life in the carousel motion of dizzy sometimes ... i. e. zoetrope storyboarding of fantasy
DeleteI see "as an ink, re-mental (or re-men-tall)" ... So, when you write, or become ink, or become the poem, or get a tatoo, go back to completely using your head ... go all-in with the brain. Forget the body and the heart. Be the thought process. Also, go back to being all man, standing tall. Proud. Be your brain, and be proud of it.
DeleteI see "hornament memento: sunrise." As if your Pan is hiding in plain sight in the essence of first light, for all to see, but everyone's sleeping. Not you though. Not you.
ReplyDeleteThat's exactly what a poet is ... a recollection peddler. And sometimes, like you, a re-collection peddler. Also pedal-er, because obviously a poet should ride a bike.
And of course the moon is a homeless can collector. That is exactly how she would go about it. And now I'm wondering who she might be hiding inside while she's abandoning her station in the sky and her reflection in water. She's in someone's eyes ... probably taking sky and water with her ... maybe she's in yours. Or maybe in a pair you'll come across while sidewalk-gathering. You never do know.
ReplyDelete