Monday, April 25, 2011

Meiosis




Meiosis


The whole subsuming
mackerel smelling abyss:
with a few words I can unmake it,
change it to a wine-rich wave’s warm kiss
let the disconjunctive dark forsake it.
But when the neon tide comes rolling in
the bloated bodies float and the gulls scream
and there’s the sharp swift pierce of a bone pin,
heart nail pounded in a dream within a dream
resuming.

Kaleidoscopic lenses bend
the light, red icestones throb beneath the unquiet lid.
Greensick invaders pulse, fluoresce on the march.
Alien guerillas the cortex can’t forbid
blow the bridge and deconstruct the arch.
A turn of the wrist and everything goes black,
the limbs arrest, the sutures come undone.
The hands spin round but the hours can’t fall back
to that which was so ardently begun.
The colors change and change, without an end.


April 2011


Posted for Magpie Tales #63 

Uncredited photo provided by Magpie Tales removed.
comments closed due to bot activity 2/13


28 comments:

  1. ok i find the first stanza fascinating...first the smell of mackeral and the bone pin, heart nail...then the second verse just explodes....like a will smith alien invasion movies....nah, i do really like it...the whole deconstruction flavor, the popping sutures...intense...you rocked it hedge!

    i still want the one syllable man poem...smiles.

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  2. Powerful...a turn of wrist and everything goes black....any action effects the vision of our future and the colours of our worldview....I fully enjoyed the rhyme weaved within...bkm

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  3. Such a good read! - the last few lines are especially wonderful.

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  4. I'm thinking torture but it could just be a bad day at the doctors

    Excellent as always

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  5. It reminds me of Jesus and the fishes. It really is beautiful.

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  7. Such depth, a venue of dark colors eating within, spinning the vortex into an alternate light. Beautifully done.

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  8. My late night brain is tangled in the meiosis, subsuming, and still hearing an echo of your 4/23 "Rant" in conjunctives?

    I focused on the neon, the screams, dreams within dreams. I almost passed on this prompt - but I faced up to it. You have done that brilliantly here as always. It really would be nice to have a book of your poems to hold in hand and mull over---

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  9. As we age the purpose of meiosis becomes less important and the act necessary for it thus is so as well. Comes the day when there is no more duty to it and faster ways to accomplish the kaleidoscope ways we once knew of it.

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  10. I think Ann's idea of a book of Hedgewitchean charms and curses would help to sort this wild poem into a certain strain where destructive forces (or desconstructive ones) share center stage with the procreative ones. Badness can evolve from an early first bad step -- wrong in the beginning, wrong in the middle, wrong in the end -- there' something creepy and nightmarish to helplessly watch this life-in-reverse "meiosis." (Something about the "me" in that ...) The Author can tell the story both ways -- I think -- though this poem to me suggests that no matter how we try to soothe our metaphors for the sea, the tide's unquiet and we have no control over what it washes in, every sort of horror can come burbling back up from abyss. Some futility here? A bad biology or history no poem can salve or save its writer from? Still, it's spookily delightful, like Tim Burton's "Beetlejuice," a sort of stop-frame claymation series of image morphing bad to worse. - Brendan

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  11. very powerful nightmare/vision full of fascinating thoughts
    well done

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  12. This is very powerfully told. A of rich words in use. Thanks for sharing.

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  13. Thanks all. This poem came straight out of a dream, almost word for word. The magpie image prompted a few usages of color, but basically this was a dream I attempted to set down and hopefully at some point will better digest.

    @Ann & Brendan; There is something about a book, isn't there? I feel that same urge about poetry posted all over the place, at Fireblossom's and Oran's Well, and elsewhere. Like I might come to understand it better if I could physically touch it, leaf through it. Thank you for the compliment of wanting that possession of the words. It's a high one.

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  14. This is so rich, so full of meaning, so YOU.

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  15. Enjoyed this a lot, particularly the first stanza.

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  16. What I love most about your work is never the immediate theme or subject but how you can sing and gather in imagistic chords as rich as Rachmaninoff. Gorgeous. xxxj

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  17. wow
    i'm never looking at a kadleidoscope the same way again...
    after this, maybe never again

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  18. I feel as if I'm a shard of glass within your kaleidascope..any turn, and I change..I think this poem can go through the same motions, and keep changing too.

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  19. Dreams are, at l;east for me, VERY fertile ground for poetry. I haven't written from a dream in a while now--they come when they come--but some of my most intense and interesting poems have been culled from the night.

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  20. Hdgewitch, I love your poetry. This one really surprised me. I especially love the line, 'with a few words I can unmake it,'
    I think that speaks to everyone who writes, becuase we all believe in the power of words.

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  21. Your choice of words is astounding - powerful, deep and wild. Wonderful piece.

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  22. Dream poems are my favorite. I write them and chase the meaning; sometimes I catch it, but mostly I just keep chasing.

    Those last lines are a kicker.

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  23. This is very much like a whirlwind of words ... a tornadic vortex with unending rhythm ... at the very first i thought of the Blowfish (cannot tell you why.)

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  24. Wow, raw and real. Popping sutures says it all. Powerful write.

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  25. magical tale.
    keep it up.

    join us today. have fun!

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