Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Chains



Chains


Everything has its thinbeat chain
attached to the torc, an accessory
the tattoo on freedom that shows
off her white paper flesh
binding
flower to root
star to darkling center
bird to sky, you to I
the end is reached
the chain snaps taut
but still we fly as if
the broken neck is nothing much.

Everything is coupled
and so doubled, twinned sun
defined by a shadow;
bee to queen
sea to moon
water to thirst
moon to sea, drifting
mist of pain to condensing pleasure
heart to echo, reflection to real,
ululant yowl and whoosh to song
the restless wind’s loving
chained to a passive speck in space
all forever frantic in the tender rape.





January 2012.

Posted for real toads

No idea if this comes close to what futurism really is, but I did my best, even put in some onomatopoeia, and hope I hit somewhere on the side of the barn.







26 comments:

  1. Oooh, Splendid!
    This is hyper-concise, with no words wasted, or extraneous terms flung in to juice up the image - I love the direct linkage of the nouns:
    flower to root
    star to darkling center
    bird to sky, you to I..

    and the extraordinary images: white paper flesh, and the unexpected tender rape at the end.

    Brava!

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    1. Thanks, Kerry. Groping in the dark, but the idea for this poem has been in the back of my mind for some time, so seized this chance to get it out.

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  2. ululant may be my new favorite word...smiles...yes there are chains to everything and yes we fly on as if the broken neck did not matter...that first stanza is a great capture of our present reality...tender rape...ugh...oxymoron...no not you...very nice hedge...smiles.

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    1. yeah, its a loaded word and I know FB will probably also cringe at it, but it's not about people, or even helpless things. thanks for reading boss, after reading 138 responses to OLN, last count. I would be outsourcing to those boys of yours--keep 'em useful's my motto. :P

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  3. Perfect pacing... the poem speeds up in places... very effective. I've read this poem several times... it's one of my favorites of yours.

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  4. Wicked good, friend ... Gravity is some sumbitch, linking us all back to Gaia's torc. You do a right exquisite job linking everything back to the electron frenzy of the "tender rape." And we call ourselves free, albeit with broken necks and crushed laryxnes. Very fine, though what you (I think) intend futuristic I would call past perfect. Same dif, huh. - Brendan

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    1. I wouldn't call it anything, even late to dinner. ;_) Good reading, B.--you nailed it.

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  5. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, or something like that? Never mind the break at C2, we are free, though it may be free fall. Just wait until that cosmic bungee snaps back...are ya sure Hank done it this way?

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  6. Great response to the prompt, Hedge.......very impressive writing.

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  7. I don't know about futurism either (and I read the bit over at the garden) but this is a damn fine poem!

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  8. i like the subtle internal rhymes here and the feel of these words. "ululant yowl" is a magnificent phrase. though i will say that i am reacting negatively to "tender rape," sigh.

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    1. Yes, its a difficult word--I really had in mind the f-word--but I feel equally uncomfortable with that--too bad our language doesn't have a better, less violent and plosive sexual vocabulary. thanks for reading, Marian.

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  9. Wow! This is fantastic...but still we fly as if
    the broken neck is nothing much...it is tough when you leap beyond your chain

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  10. The ending is brilliant. Don't doubt it for a minute.

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  11. Truly do a great job capturing the ironies. I love the onomatopoeia! I think you hit the bull's eye on the side of the barn.

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  12. oh very impressive ... a lot to learn from your writing style.

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  13. You hit the broad side of my barn. I was hoping to find some iron cutters here though.

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  14. Constant peeling, getting down to the reality of opposing forces, and the raw everything. . . . sea to moon, moon to sea. The ending is a bang-up revelation, disturbing and perfect. Superb work.

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    1. Thanks, Ruth. You started me off on this thought line with your poem about freedom a while back, so thanks. Glad you enjoyed.

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  15. thinbeat chain .. as an accessory

    disturbing, as it should be. I think it refers to us all. I read it a number of times, understanding dawning on my dimwit of a brain by the third read. Poetry often makes me feel way under-educated...

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    1. Poetry is a sort of shorthand--and it tries very much to do the same thing as your photography--isolate an image that strikes the eye--and through that, the mind's eye. I try to be as visual as I can when I write, because I'm a visual person, but the reader does have to do a lot more connecting the dots with poetry I think than with the visual arts that you are so good at, Margaret. It's the same thing, in some ways, just different mediums--and I hope you find it gets easier as it goes along. Thanks for reading.

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  16. Thanks! And that truly is the fun of it... taking the time to stop and ask myself questions (using dictionary.com ha!) and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-g my brain...

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  17. defined by a shadow, attached with a thin beat chain. i like this lightening flash glimpse of the other you provide.

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  18. ululant. New word to me and I pressed the speaker button 4-5 times to hear the pronunciation.

    I'm quite in love with this poem, with these couplings. This could become one of those famous poems. Which makes me ask: how do poems become famous these days and do modern poems become beloved in the way poems by the masters (before you) became beloved?

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg