Friday, July 10, 2009

the garden had a gate for exits

i. the pungent spread of nonsensical landscapes

the red flag that demarcates
the mulched illusion of a perfect lawn
puzzles the lone observer
with its signal of bland perfection.

the small set of saplings annoy with freshness:
what goat-footed god would call this a grotto of now?

there is a small fortress of shrubbery
that protects mechanical brassy water
from the inevitable rotation of crops.

there is a quiet nibble that swells your lips.

there is the inevitable theatrics
of inhaling the big green tongue
that could have lapped your shores
while the scotch broom in its gaudy spray
of cream yellow and regal maroon
blushed over the paint chipped banister.

in retrospect,
removing the ferns was a big mistake.

ii. meanwhile, back at the franchise of mystery

wire frame glasses inverted on a desk,
a tin of tea, two pencils and all the rest-
it all wavers slightly in the sweetness of a breath,
a piano climbs somewhere unfathomably deep:

the movie of a blue-veined hand reaches your cup and drinks.

this is one way of letting go.

iii. a final climb in the ecstasy of nothing

to effectively pull the shaved and mottled skin over one's head
it is best to either use a bulky sweater knitted by a mothball aunt
or to replace it altogether with a natty cover more in the Phoenician style:

a wisp of purple feathers, perhaps, or maybe hard brown scales,
perpetually reeking of the perfect oyster salted sea.

this is the pearly paralysis of endless choice.

10 comments:

  1. Love the picture of the garden... and the rest too. Nice write!
    -Alex

    ReplyDelete
  2. You know, as soon as I opened your link, it brought me to think how visually effective your writing always is, reminding me of an author ...Russell Banks, the descriptions depicted so vibrant and well executed...always enjoyable!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Just felt like am actually sitting in the centre of a nice flourishing garden and as your words flow, I look around to feel them all!!
    Nice work with words..:)

    Keep writing...

    ReplyDelete
  4. Every single line, a vivid punctuating brushstroke.

    I absolutely adore the magic of your gift...

    ReplyDelete
  5. Your line of sight is often belly height. I find this peculiar. You write as though you are a camera held covertly at neck secretly recording that which you happen upon. Neat.

    ReplyDelete
  6. My dear WIAW: Is it so wrong to breathe from the solar plexus? Mayhaps. You do realize you're talking to a knucklehead, right?

    ReplyDelete
  7. For me this is so much more than a puzzling reflection of ones' garden. It's like a three d version of life from the outside in, a mere gleaming of those who tend and live within a home, as observed from a passerby.

    Eh, that's the writer in me searching for that one happening that provoked a poets' piece.

    Nicely written.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Interesting, as always - your writing. I really like the changing gear and the ensuing flow of the second verse...
    -------------

    ii. meanwhile, back at the franchise of mystery
    -------------
    (LOVE THAT! And then...)
    -------------
    wire frame glasses inverted on a desk,
    a tin of tea, two pencils and all the rest-
    it all wavers slightly in the sweetness of a breath,
    a piano climbs somewhere unfathomably deep...

    ------------
    Quite beautiful...

    ananji

    ReplyDelete
  9. Once again, your words are a swirl of charm and wonder.ful. :)

    ReplyDelete
  10. This is very intricate, profound at the same time. Love the imagery and the finer nuances of it .. Every part is pretty commendable and the paralance of the words created magic for me...

    And thanks for dropping by on my blog sane aphorisms. I don't write much on that one ... you can keep an eye on www.dippingbutterflies.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete

Yes?