August 29, 2016

hone in


Navigation Without Numbers (1957) by Wynn Bullock ©



tracing my fingers  
in a crawl 
toward your spine

you weave
spit bubble
hearth held
teeth and leaves
an imperceptibly sharp
and thin meniscus divide
you ride undertows
flows, surrenders
and though Summer still
you bell sugar
to iron bleeding spun
exhales, milkweed pods
parasol paintings
wearing eyes
becoming noses
coloring to know
all fours
kneading
prattle paper poems
along my forest floor

EJR ©

2 comments:

  1. This is crazy-good, Edward. So enjoyable to read aloud.

    I love that your title is "honey in" without the [wh]y. Do we really ever need a reason? There's also an almost "honey yin" ... if you have a reasonably good imagination.

    So then, going into the first line, I see "honey in, tracing my fingers" ... which means that 1) you're tracing your fingers (like on paper, with a pencil), only I think your hand is on her back and you're tracing your own spread-open fingers with the fingers on your other hand. And when you touch her back (around your fingers) with your other fingers, honey comes out of the tips ... "in a crawl" ... very, very slowly. And although that can be erotic, it's also sleep-inducing, which is maybe what she needs even more than pleasure: some really deep sleep with (and at the hands of) someone she trusts.

    The spine also represents a courage-spot. But I see this as being about the courage you give her to be vulnerable. She doesn't feel safe anywhere else. She thinks everyone is lying to her, having some sort of ulterior motive. But you, over time, she has come to trust.

    "you weave" ... "You, we have." ("We" meaning all the people inside your head. You all have her.) Too, she's a spider. Too, she's a homemaker. Too, she's a storyteller. Too, she's a patcher of torn things. A good mommy. Or grandmommy, even.

    "Spit bubble" is your favorite way to describe a blow job (I perceive). But here, I see her "spitting rhyme" inside of bubbles. Maybe you can't even hear them because the bubbles she blows are so tight, float so high, and pop beyond ear-reach. The only way to know what she's thinking/saying/"spitting" is to live inside her bubble(s).

    Then of course, her bubbles are blown, not with soap, but with her own saliva.

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  2. Then, "hearth held," of course, has to do with holding the home and its warmth together. "Hearth" is also a heart with a step-ladder (h) bumped up next to it ... to give you a boost in climbing inside.

    Too, "hearth held" implies that she's not afraid to touch fire ... perhaps putting herself in danger. Maybe she's a firestarter or a pyromaniac, literally or figuratively.

    But then going down to the next line, I'm wondering if it actually (or also) says "hearth held teeth" ... which means that a body was disposed of in the fireplace. Leaves too. So the person might have been killed outdoors but then drug into the fire, bringing leaves along with. Only, why didn't the leaves burn up? They must be magical leaves! Of course!

    "an imperceptibly sharp
    and thin meniscus divide" ... I wonder if this might represent the fine (curved) line between right and wrong. She "rides" just under it, I think. Close enough that she can pop right up to the surface if need be. (I'm picturing this happening in the ocean ... where she perhaps rides seahorses, too.)

    I love the idea of riding surrenders.

    This is my favorite line: "you bell sugar"

    "parasol paintings" ... This makes me think of Mary Poppins and how she took everyone on an adventure, jumping through the sidewalk chalk pictures. I think that's going on here, too. Dipping in and out of reality and imagination, magical lands.

    "wearing eyes" ... I also love that. I wonder if she (and you) is (are) wearing eyes you were born with (even if that means multiple pairs), or if you're both wearing other people's eyes too. That's definitely a gift ... unless the people have to die first. But if it means that you're understanding, and empathetic, then it's definitely a good and beautiful thing/skill.

    "eyes becoming noses" ... The sense-ible body parts should definitely be able to stretch themselves into each other ... to give each other vacations and such. Or just to help each other out.

    "coloring to know" ... YES! I am a huge fan/advocate of adults coloring. With crayons or whatever else they like to work with. Especially coloring in coloring books on the floor (on all fours) ... and especially if poems come out of it. So now I'm picturing Brian Andreas-esque art being created on the floor by people all over the world, in their own way. It's a wave of creativity. An epidemic of childlikeness that's spreading. (I hope.) Especially if people are coming from every-where to drawn on your "(forest ... for rest) floor," ... Pan.

    So when everyone's jumping into the chalk pictures, they're actually hopping into your forest. I love this. :)

    Oh, and the she(s), and people in general, can only hear your invitation if they "hone in."

    Gorgeous, inspiring work, my friend.

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