Wednesday, January 12, 2011

in memorium for a rainbow

Saw a half massed spirit of passed friend
though hard salties on the iron rack alcove,
the board with its steamy legs and blown
fibers scary nowhere as a prism's ghost
after a purple day's pursuit, clockmaking's
timely arc icy tucked in a terracotta tomb:

it's just a reflection from the womb, you said.

And damp over the koi pond a brick bridge arched
leads to Otto's ruin amid a dispenser of fiskefoder-
for a quarter you can recover the past in a mossy pond-
one route with many names covers enough tears for now.

A white hearse with a horseshoe turned on the rear
dirty lid in need of washing of course a christening
in a motel that was void of expected chrism dipping
the washer dryer combo dripping under awning rain.

So we move on damned,
faces covered in red wax asking for remembrance.


  1. This reminds me of the creepy white hearse that carried my grandfather to the cemetery. Killer last line. Wow!

  2. So much going on here, Gerry, it really deserves several readings to take it all in. As usual the colours are described wonderfully.

  3. @Tess: Glad this resonated in some way with you.

    @Gordon: Hard for me to write without color. Why? I do not know.

  4. i agree-- a textured piece; amazing images and colour, and the mood feels quite connected to both of these.
    thanks for these intriguing forays into expressive adventuring!

  5. Gerry,
    I am very reassured that you did pack your paints and easel into the van with you.
    Your writing is so packed full with imagery...

    An interesting mood in words....

    All good wishes, Eileen

  6. @Harlequin: I can only thank you heartily for continuing to read and get something out of this.

    @Eileen: I suspect that use of metaphor is also creeping into your comments. Good show. And Thank You!

  7. half massed spirit of passed friend

    Great description of either a rainbow - or a soul!
    I should come here more often...

  8. @Jinksy: A close friend passed last week at 38. Far too young. Wrote this through the tears.

  9. A tribute so true...
    Colors do play our lives, don't they??

    'it's just a reflection from the womb, you said.' ~~ this kind of haunted me, though it may mean nothing to many..

    Once again, a cliche..!
    Keep blogging!