Saturday, February 27, 2010

Nausea at Moon-rise, Re-Birth at Dawn

During the brief run from a spinning light
to the brass flashed plate of a keyhole tide,
you could feel the tunnels of fictions shrink
and freeze the geologic laws that govern stone:

black veiny marble with frothy pearls of clot
bled in gothic red on the funnel's twisty script.

Did I mention the ticking palpitations,
spiking along the cold wrought fence
with odd aspic medallions of even hearts?

Yes, it was a pocked marked sweaty frolic
that fashioned an image in the curl of your locks,
pursued though we were through the cycling spin
by moon kissed slurping through the lesser ferns:

we were feeling that fear that distracts from fear
if only for a fleeting clock of silvery breath.

I am speechless and yet I speak,
guileless and yet I beguile,
thoughtless and yet I think:

man, that is really boring-
one of the many days I often die,
in that place before the dawn.

The pin-prick mantissa of the visible kiss,
raised only a fraction of what was possible:

an orange blossom that unfolded in a bowl of broth
and slowly spun the hairy prayers of multiple birth.

Then, we ran into the gray creped mansion-
the laconic one slurped yellow bile,
eyes down in a library of musty footnotes
and dusty bindings muted in velvet rays
while the clever one spun of glee from fusty skeins
a dramatic green gift for the loquaciously visored.

Whether it was the ruby ink or emerald glass
we could not tell in the pre-dawn light,
trading the silver breath of tomorrow
for the baffling tongue of acid now.

wait a minute,
wait a minute,
wait a minute-
the sun's about to rise

Perhaps there was no illumination,
but there was a cirrus palate
that almost licked the sky.

20 comments:

  1. a grand journey
    indeed;

    there are so many interesting
    twists

    and
    turns here,
    such as:

    "we were feeling that fear that distracts from fear"

    and
    "The pin-prick mantissa of the visible kiss"


    love the title,
    the conversational nature,

    and the final three
    stanzas

    a lot.

    ver nice!

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  2. loved this journey friend, very high imagery, loved the poem from start to end :)

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  3. Gerry, I don't know if I've told you this before, but whenever I read one of your pieces, I feel like I've entered a surrealist work of art. You use amazing words and create amazing images... so effortlessly, it seems. And this...

    I am speechless and yet I speak,
    guileless and yet I beguile,
    thoughtless and yet I think:

    ... I loved!

    Nevine

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  4. @Noxalio: Glad this took you for a ride. An inexpensive holiday indeed.

    @Mr.Manson: Cheers mate.

    @Nevine: If only you knew what's inside of my head! Thanks for letting me know I was able to transcribe some of it effectively. Surreal, yes, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Thanks.

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  5. Surreal indeed... You have an amazing, exceptional imagery here, Gerry; I'd have to quote almost every line to mark the ones that appealed most to me. I love it!

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  6. @Vesper: Welcome aboard the crazy train. Glad to have you along. Cheers.

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  7. Gerry Boyd
    on creepy toes
    in cahoots
    in the shadows.

    And with this,
    "I am speechless and yet I speak,
    guileless and yet I beguile,
    thoughtless and yet I think:
    man, that is really boring-"
    I HA!
    and then with this,
    "one of the many days I often die,
    in that place before the dawn."
    you do in fact, simmer me down.

    xo
    erin

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  8. @WIAW: Je suis creepy beaucoup. What can I say? I even creep out myself. xo

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  9. If colors had a scent I feel like you have made me smell them...

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  10. @Johnsie Noel: What a lovely comment. That truly means a lot. Thanks.

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  11. Hello Gerry,

    wait a minute,
    wait a minute,
    wait a minute-
    the sun's about to rise

    Simply wow!! Wonderful creation... What a sketch... I could draw the entire picture with these words!

    Loved the verbiage!
    Regards,
    Dimple

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  12. Here there be poetry!

    A mite grandiloquent at times, but no more than what the recipe called for. Shade upon shade of rich, hypnagogic ephemera.

    Much enjoyed.

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  13. @Dimps: Welcome and thanks for stopping by. Regards.

    @OE(I): Accept the assessment of grandiloquence. I go there sometimes despite my best attempts. Welcome and thanks.

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  14. as I read this ...it was as if I was dancing or running behind your words.....very nice ..

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  15. @Sandra (if): When the words move or move you, that is good. Muchas Gracias.

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  16. die, in that place before dawn
    &
    bleeding gothic red
    I was so taken with these phrases, so taken.

    beautiful in word and feel
    thanks for this.

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  17. odd aspic medallions of even hearts

    Whether it was the ruby ink or emerald glass
    we could not tell in the pre-dawn light,
    trading the silver breath of tomorrow
    for the baffling tongue of acid now.

    and so many more images that just wrung my heart of admiration. This might as well be the best of the dark poems I've read recently.

    Thankyou for dropping by on my space. :)
    Great poem, Gerry.

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  18. @Harlequin: Thanks Harlequin. I do gothic once in a awhile. It's not like my publisher minds! Stick it to the man. Ha!

    @Limpidus: Welcome. If there was wrunging to be done, I suppose I'm glad to have done the wringing. Appreciate the read and glad something wrung true. ;-)

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  19. I love the last stanza, some of your lines I get all lost, but then you reel it back in.
    Thank you for your writing and sending it out here.
    Thank you for reading my work.

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  20. @Dianne: Thanks and welcome. Ok to get lost right? Sometimes I lose myself.

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Yes?