Tuesday, March 30, 2010

It was along a river that I never heard

"There are varied responses to the process of
socialization. Many acquiesce and replicate
with their children what their parents did to them.
Others do not. In clinical observation, we can oscillate
the difference."

Thorsten Heisendykker, The Bland Mirror of the Medusa Ego

i. Once more, into that pesky garden

Prickly troubled being burst forth again
along the newly spaded furrow of jaded roses,
often bubbly wrapped as a hapless thorny stem
against the rubber boots of a tame green calf,
often pitched by the sleeping wight of life
or the soiling dreams of ever-blooming black:
yikes! the concrete square is so sweaty rich
with the capillary dew of bloody aspiration.

In the swampy mist a hunkered rail
quakes in mirth as the banshees wail:

a two-clawed braid of mossy twist
with elbows blue towards bluer sky
in a heathen dance of heathered mists.

And so it ends and so it begins.

ii. Climb every anthill until you reach
From the violet calm of my omega
I saw the alpha swirl of contenders
dissipate and cease to snarl at rivals.

I had a chartreuse tiffin with twin black straps
and a plastic zipper that never stuck
to carry fruits and nuts and yogurt:

persimmons and clementines mostly,
an occasional prickly pear-
blanched almonds and pistachios,
savory with the salt of the sea.

I watched your reflection
but the sun came out
and you went in
squeaking a hinge behind,

blankly.

I parked my aqua truck in a narrow space
and solved the white brick puzzle.

Cutting the deck with every breath,
was it brave, then, to draw another?

I spun with the cirrus in a fulcrum of air,
I spun with the mud that had clumped in your hair,
I spun and my eyes were white and nowhere.

And spun and spun, spun again.

16 comments:

  1. Gerry, this is absolutely wonderful. I adore every line, every image. I can't even single on out as my favorite because they are all gorgeous and moving.

    This:

    "Prickly troubled being burst forth again
    along the newly spaded furrow of jaded roses,
    often bubbly wrapped as a hapless thorny stem
    against the rubber boots of a tame green calf,
    often pitched by the sleeping wight of life
    or the soiling dreams of ever-blooming black:"

    is particularly marvelous and brings "Tintern Abbey" to mind.

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  2. The imagery dances in my minds eye. The song created by meter and rhyme do it for me.

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  3. brilliant poem Gerry, deep and meaningful :)

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  4. @Megan: Too kind really. You know I'm just "messin' round".

    @Marisa: Dance, dance, dance. Poetry and dance are the same to me.

    @William: Much Obliged. Thanks for popping in.

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  5. Gerry, Gerry, Gerry....I had to read so slowly to allow my eyes to see what your words spun...twirling with mud in my hair, and it was damn fine. Abandonment.

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  6. @WaW: WaW, WaW, WaW. I am not the easiest read but I am glad you hung in there. I would like to believe it's worth it. Thanks.

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  7. I parked my aqua truck in a narrow space
    and solved the white brick puzzle.

    Bravo, bravissimo... This is so ingenous and beautiful...
    I just loved it!
    ;)

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  8. @Dulce: I didn't really understand that line until I imagined you reading it. So, thank you!

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  9. Gerry,

    You honor the art, the strivings of poets here. Thank you.....pajamas

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  10. @old pajamas: Blessings. Nothing says comfort like PJs. ;-)

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  11. This sounds wonderful read aloud! I like how you wove the bubbly wrap and plastic zipper in. Beautiful.

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  12. @willow: Reading aloud is the way to go with poetry, don't you think? To me that's the true test, so if that worked for you, I can only say: Yippee!

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  13. Gerry,

    Breathtaking. Read aloud, an oneiric cascade piercing through the present de-formation of self to childhood's concrete(...the concrete square is so sweaty rich with the capillary dew of bloody aspiration...),flesh-felt, immediate mystery.

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  14. Gerry
    There is a bewildering array of talent in the world. There is a marvelous sense of image and emotion in your works here. Thanks for following
    my blog. I'm new to this only started last week. I'm a bit blown away looking through peoples blogs; especially the poetry ones.

    regards
    anonymous patrick

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  15. @anomymous p[oet][atrick]: I agree. I think it's fantastic that there are so many people sharing their work in the blogosphere. I have read so much outstanding work that, in an earlier print-only age, would probably have never seen the light of day. I would like to think that, if everyone wrote poetry, or at least tried, the world would be a better place. Thanks for stopping by. Cheers.

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  16. Ode to dad or mom? Or the child?

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Yes?