Saturday, February 6, 2010

Turning left for the milky way

The chrome knife of a yellow fossil
is your cut bone that cuts me too,
entangled neurons silver buffed
in the jungle subways humid brew,
prior to shrill and before the blade
basalt scratched the sankofa thrill-

we were engraved by comrade baby chrome
into a goosed cadence of pablum clumps:
from the stomping argyles of pedantic hue
to the saline paths of washed-up krill-
a tidy nexus of etiolating fuck-ups ensued
before I left my sun-block out of reach
in the sandy bunkers on the washed-out beach.

Idle graphite scratched on wordy grout
their tack itself a talismanic snack,
hinting at the facial rituals necessary for
protection against sardonic maps of melt:
long in the sun but not long enough
I needs some heat for my feets please.

When hurtling and huffing on a sunset train
in a westbound carriage of terminal sun,
a bad pun in Dutch about cannon fodder
does not stop the pain or cancel the jones
of watching unpleasant seasons tick through time
a wrist for which is overkill, limping into stardom-

when the pillow cut meets the fossil bone
birthing a little flutter in the licks of distant stars.


  1. Great images to behold. Particularly liked 'stomping argyles of pedantic hue' but of course I am Scottish!

  2. "long enough in the sun..but not long enough"..
    terrific/that's the story, I'm afraid!!

  3. For some reason, I feel like the wedding guest in Rime of the Ancient Mariner....

  4. My imagination emerged well-exercised from the reading of this piece :).

  5. Gerry, I'm shocked. I get it. Well, at least the imagery, which is undeniable throughout and finds its way into me like a smell. Can a colour such as bleached white smell? (Guess I just answered my own question.)

    Am I wrong to see a hip bone in the first lines? It felt intimate.


  6. This spoke to me... about 'opportunities missed'... like life has taken an 'unexpected turn'. But, perhaps the beauty of life is found in the unexpected, hey? Still all your poems are full of lovely unexpected twists and turns. I really enjoyed these lines (among others):-

    "a bad pun in Dutch about cannon fodder
    does not stop the pain or cancel the jones
    of watching unpleasant seasons tick through time
    a wrist for which is overkill, limping into stardom.."

  7. Lots of cool clink clink sounding lines. Lovely.

  8. Fascinating rhythm and rich, organic images as always.

  9. I agree with Gordon: great images. And some clever word-smithing into the bargain. Not easy to access, I found. I shall need another go at it.

  10. @Gordon: The beauty of the Great Glen is unrivaled. I'm partial to argyles myself when forced to wear socks.

    @Lyn: Let the baking begin!

    @Wendilea: Thanks. Please pardon the little revision to your noted couplet. On re-reading, I found "ecstasy" a tad too obvious.

    @Mr Michaelian: Once again, you have forced me to do some homework.

    @Francis: Nothing wrong with some mental barbells, eh?

    @b&h: Erin, are you trying to confuse ME? xo anyway...

    @CathM: Thanks. Wish I could keep pace with your Voluminous output. My joy is that this spoke to you.

    @Jenny: As always, glad to have you as a reader. You comment reminded me of that great line from Wizard of Oz: "You clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk!"

    @Megan: Yes, I actually like the meter in this. I think it has a sort of pounding beat.

    @Suicide Barbie: Welcome. Love your name. That's a poem in itself. Glad you found something to like.

    @Dave King: Hello Dave. I am constitutionally incapable, usually, of writing non-densely. I keep trying, though. I do appreciate the fact that you would even consider another "go". Thanks.

  11. Hi Gerry pleased to meet you and thank you for following me, I am now doing the same, wow, your poetry is creative friend, loved the imagery in this post, great structure as well, will be back again and have added you to my blog roll..take care.

  12. @Mr. Manson: Welcome and thank you for your kind words.

  13. I needs some heat for my feets please

    Memo to self: a man with cold feet is never good to find in your bed.

  14. @jinksy: my feet are perpetually like hot coals, even in the dead of winter.

  15. loved the cadence and meter.... almost like it shouldn't work but then it does....
    and really liked the nexus of etiolating fuckups....a line that just sprang and receded with amazing swiftness; it felt like that first burst of blood spurting from a deep, fresh cut

  16. That was an oops.

    But what of the hip bone?

  17. @Harlequin: Thx.

    @WIAW: What of the hip bone? What, indeed. xo