Monday, October 4, 2010

thirty-five measures, one wrong cut

There are certain sighs for which no gestures yet exist
signed the hushed lady in red and blue, hedged near
the small plump aubergine pokeberries about to burst
from dark and stormy silence into the rain drenched

psychedlic bursts of oily autumn pavement swirled
again sweet thrusts of summer to cloud sniffed dry,
a crisp paisley of turquoise, canary, and rust whirled
arrows and pesky sprays measured in neon blue pulses
highlighting how quickly the most effective incision

will enjoy the muffled comedy while it lasts as
an unholy trinity flickering with black flecks and
fiddling about with things quite gloriously taboo
through furtive curtains passed the frost glaze then

it was the morning of the rosy cirrus dawn,
an epic in which the bald Titan weeds his garden
whistling an etude while reseeding the bare spots
notes morphing from chance brown to fortune green
in the summer turf that was parched unseemly when

I distracted you from seeing the dead cardinal
knowing it would upset you so only in the mind
and I was teased by every red car that was not yours
but prompted me to think of your flourishing utopias:
athena on the half shell with flamingo escort
a pink pulsing speck in the periwinkle mandala.

We left in October with the calculus of tresspass made
before the down tumbling leaves came drinking then
an elixir made from pokeberries burst with scarlet
which might repress the breath's reject of healing air.

That this perfect slice of reality cannot not be the one
that we really deserve:

Those are just lines from an old grimoire.


  1. We've not come into our in California. Leaves are glued to the trees, steadfast and stubborn in their adhesion. I love that there are sighs for which no gestures exist. For me it is true. Lungs cannot encompass the expulsion which needs to float from branch and soar.

  2. Uh-oh. Aren't pokeberries poisonous? I really like "oily autumn pavement", and my favorite line is "fiddling about with things quite gloriously taboo". Nice.

  3. @W&W: Thanks for the deep and thoughtful comment. I suppose your seasons are a but gentler.

    @Willow: I heard there's a folk remedy cough syrup you can make from pokeberries but I haven't researched the details. That was part of what was dancing around in this. Thanks for taking the time to read. I know how busy you are so I really appreciate it.

  4. Again, Mr. B...brilliant delivery of beautifully pieced together words. Such fine imagery.

  5. What a fantastic bourach of images in colours, sounds and rhythms.

    (bourach - Scots: irreversible tangle)

  6. @Akeith: Thanks. So glad you're still a reader.

    @Gordon: Love that word! Yes, I think that well describes how I experience reality.

  7. Gerry,
    As usual your words, which are a delight to read evoke all kinds of dreamy thoughts. Transported towards a beautiful karma experience.
    It all ends too soon.......

    Best autumnal wishes,

  8. A great flurry of words, producing an excellent result! Enjoyed this very much!

    "...I distracted you from seeing the dead cardinal
    knowing it would upset you..."

    My husband protects me like this... :)

  9. @Ms. Gilbert: Thanks for the read and glad you enjoyed. Funny, those lines were written specifically with my wife in mind. She has a cardinal thing because they remind her of her beloved maternal grandmother.

  10. oh, come're not that old!!

    seriously, a sweet transition into the languid luxury of autumn, colour moving at a pace of its own choosing, and complicated conversation as an intriguing undercurrent.

  11. Gerry, I loved the breathlessness of this poem. And such vibrant images, truly. You paint with your words... and I admire!


  12. @Harlequin: Thanks for the read. There are days when my bones beg to differ.

    @Nevine: I admire your writing too and glad to see you're back at. Seems like you took a little break for a while.

    BTW, I have new non-poetry blog where I am journaling a big life adventure that is just beginning. Check it out if you'd like:

  13. I only had to read this wonderful piece three times... three, to realize that i probably love plump aubergine pokeberries... granted i blush while i say that or was that because i pulled so many whilst weeding that i can call myself akin to friend Walker's palm... red as a berry stain but hey, it makes for great soul.sir... basking in the sun covered in pokeberries, so lovingly tucked between the ichiban... Japanese version of aubergine...

    mix the e.licks.her my friend...
    the morning has a.rose!
    I double parked the Tardis so if we left in October, we best get tresspassin'. ;) xx

  14. @Perfectly Twisted: Great comment. Nothing better than to be permanently stained by nature. And Thanks! for sharing your verse at.the.end. Cheers.

  15. Gerry,
    Will these delightful reads, be suspended during your travels, or can we be sure of more?

    Sunday evenings will just not be the same!

    Best wishes with your voyage,

  16. @Eileen: Will continue to write, last few weeks have been too hectic.

  17. I love the line... "That this perfect slice of reality cannot not be the one
    that we really deserve:" It's a real slice of the human condition.

  18. @Mr. Atkins: Thanks. That pretty much sums it up for me and I am taking a break from poetry for the foreseeable future. I've said everything I've could possibly say in every way I could possibly say it. Fini.

  19. "Sweet thrusts of summer" Great.

    Wonderful, innovative stuff, as always, Gerry.