Saturday, March 13, 2010

When Aqua Went Missing

Upon runes of sandstone scratched by gnats,
unrubbed and legible through a rubber sole
the squealed aria of high pitched muddy traffic,

It's always by the shoreline
that these dreams twist and turn.

where byssal threads of mussels cling nearby
and sing the opera of a soupy sloshing tide
and the primordial blunging of man and water,

caught by fear only half-remembered in fear,
where brazier toes were orange embered
in the burning embroidery of a cast iron grate.

As I reached for the white skirt
at midnight it seemed to come alive,
flouncing scarlet and rusty frills
with dental and gnashing intent.

barely noticed in the trills and wash of tide and song,
the flutter of the shadow of the tissue that cleanses:

I heard urges at which you feigned surprise,
though it was only the burnished lead
of a bass line thudding the spirit
that thundered in the night.

there's never none of these demure boys
that comes to any proof.


  1. As always, your words are brilliantly presented. This is excellant.

  2. very well put together poem Gerry, highly enjoyable

  3. Gerry,


    i love
    the interplay
    of the first
    and third person


  4. Genius Gerry! Two poems in one, two voices and two dimensions of thought united and still seperated. We love it

  5. I really enjoyed the weave but I have to admit, I was confused by the last two lines. Will you tell? Will you ever step forward and say, Erin, this is it?

    (You do know you drive me mad, right?)


  6. @Akeith: Thanks. And glad to hear you mother is recovering.

    @William: Glad, as always, you found some enjoyment here.

    @Noxalio: Yeah, been playing around with weaving voices. Why? I do not know.

    @Maria Garozi: Too kind, really. Hello Macarthur Foundation. LOL.

    @WIAW: The poem is just the poem. The poet is just a thief. I stole those lines from posterity for posterity. xo

  7. This "sings beyond the genius of the sea." Like it a lot.

  8. @Megan: Thanks. On re-reading, I suspect the meter in the second and third lines is not quite right. At least it seemed to stick in my craw. Ah, if only for a do-over.


    "unrubbed and legible through a rubber sole,
    the squealed aria of high pitched muddy traffic,"

    Oh, who knows?

  9. Very nice
    Chasing spirits as the dance among the waves by the light of the stars

  10. I like this "conversation"
    between two
    and then the audience.

  11. @Walker: Thanks for the poetic reply.

    @aw110: Welcome and thanks. I have playing around with that form. I don't know why.

  12. A sultry mix of music and sea against the backdrop of romantic horror. Who could ask for more? :)

  13. @Paula Ray: Glad I didn't leave you wanting. ;-)

  14. "The poem is just the poem. The poet is just a thief. I stole those lines from posterity for posterity." Ha! Love this and what you have expertly crafted. You make no apologies for your lines and doubt not the execution of your own voice. I envy you that. I am still writing what I think others want to hear - which is crap. Thanks for staying inspirational.

  15. @Johnsie Noel: Thanks. I'm just an amateur with a blog. So, there's the general freedom to write whatever I want. Just messing around with words. How many "professionals" are writing poetry that will be remembered in 10 or 20 years, let alone an amateur like me? SO write what you want. Ephemerally Yours, Gerry

  16. yes, the two voices are compelling; I am also caught by the recurring image of the skirt, the flash of white, the ruffle and scarlet, and somehow this makes sense against the sound of the waves... a neat synaesthesic poem

  17. @Harlequin: Thanks. Glad you're reading me.