Thursday, January 19, 2012

Spelled Out



Carhenge
Spelled Out



I finally noticed
when the trees fell and
the leaves were bare
when the sandstorm rained  moss
when summer rode into January
on a seahorse
that you had put
a spell on me.

I think I saw you
slip flashpowder
in my cells and light it
with a whistle you blew
from the corner of serious and Canis Major
and when that howling is on me
when the spell is wound up
I’m deaf and leafdrunk; 
I drop

like a marionette when the puppeteer
breaks for lunch, watch you
pull a string from my
soul laces and hang it 
on your ley line
to dry in the stone wind.
I never asked
to be this 
charmed

but now I find I can’t navigate without
my wheel tied down tight, so
I drive with eyes closed
drift to the side of a two lane night’s
brownout desert, and bump
myself still, afraid of the broken mirror
afraid to get out of the crazy car 
and walk
the crooked ghost town of my life.



January 2012





Image: Carhenge, by cm195902 on flick'r
Shared under Creative Commons 2.0 Non-Commercial License

15 comments:

  1. I'm laughing. I read this, tilted my head back and went "ohh wowwwww!" and started to laugh, because this is just so ridiculously good.

    Where to start. All the things that made the speaker "finally notice." Each one is absolute original Hedgewitch, and crackles with foreboding energy. Lighting the flashpowder of passion and devotion with a whistle. A whistle? Get out of town. But it works. It works so well that, having read it, it couldn't be anything else. The dog star and then the leafdrunk falling down is visual, and an old hand like me can feel the ground run up and smack me the way it used to. Of course, you're not talking about anything so workaday as alcohol.

    Soul laces. "I never asked to be this charmed." Fawk, woman! That line is so good. One thinks of charm as a pleasant and fairly benign thing, but here it is a prison and a bone-deep spell. You've infused it with its other meaning, from the world of magic.

    The final stanza is on fire. Just on fire. The wheel having to be tied down, the "crazy car" (!) and navigating the ghost town of her life.

    ~gnashes teeth~

    I know you hate gushing. Mea culpa, Witch. But geez. So much for the dry spell you were complaining about a short while ago. You must have put your pen on the slab during the last lightning storm. And the bar? Lord knows what you've done with THAT. Brilliant, brilliant work, the past two poems, and I don't say that in the casual, lets-do-lunch manner that it generally gets tossed around. Okay, now I am going to go tape my fingers together so I can't type any more sick-making fangirl kudos...but, woman, they are deserved.

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  2. nice....the flash powder in the cells...nice capture of feeling in that...the marionette kinda scares me a bit...i never asked for that much control to be gone either....the last stanza is a bit haunting for me honestly...

    dont you just love shay...she is cool like that

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    1. Yes, I love having her around on vacation, where she has the time to be her amazing self. Thanks for reading, Brian, and being your equally but differently amazing self.

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  3. Well, I'm not sure I can follow those two, but I will say that the opening stanza is amazing... and I had to laugh at your category- when you believe in things you don't understand you're generally screwed.

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    1. Thanks, Laurie. And that label went with the old music video from Stevie Ray--love how at the end Stevie Wonder comes out and cuddles the world's largest black cat--'superstition ain't the way...' ;-)

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  4. Amen to Shay. Nothing like a good vowel movement to make a {seasoned} poet believe in the power of l'amour. {"Power" + "l'amour" = "paramour"? Hmmmm...) Its like the feet (OK, the meters) spell it out in sweet cursive, with lots of exclamation points and heart-dotted i's, that sour grapes is futile when the big wind still carries lavender and honey in its arms. Still, keeping a dry eye turned on the events here does make for a certain bemusement, not quite addlement but an element of surprise. (Ergo the sculpture in the picture?) Still crazy after all these years: A good deal, wouldn't you agree? -Brendan

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    1. Wouldn't have it any other way. Also, as old Way-more said, 'I've always been crazy but it's kept me from goin' insane...'
      I've been by the car henge place on a trip to Rushmore years ago--I think it's in Nebraska, or one of those high flat states, so you can see it for miles, and it looks just like stonehenge till you get close to it--it's a surreal sight that every so often comes back to goose me. Thanks for reading, B, and for explaining about the feet--I was looking down, wondering what my toes had to do with it, besides dance to Stevie Ray. ;-)

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    2. I think you may be talking about Cadillac Ranch, in Amarillo.

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  5. Wonderful! I want to pick a favourite section/verse but I can't as they are all so brilliant.

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  6. Brilliant writing, Hedge. Fireblossom said it well. I was especially stunned by "walk the crooked ghost town of my life". Sheesh. Fantastic writing.

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  7. Thanks Cait and Sherry. Always good to see you stop by.

    @FB: No, this particular ones up north--didn't know there was something similar in Amarillo...btw, thanks again for your first comment--still heavily blushing.

    http://www.carhenge.com/

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  8. So who's the Merlin of Carhenge? Henry Ford? Rick Perry? or some stranger ghost in the machine, like Ted Nugent, or Nancy Reagan or maybe Steven Colbert wearing an Ann Coulter fright wig channeling a huge pile of T-Rex poop? Disquieting minds gotta know .... B

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    1. Just picturing Colbert in a Coulter wig(let alone the T rex poop) makes me vividly thankful not to have been drinking any sneezable liquids at time of reading. I like to think it's some insane eccentric recluse(there is like, *nothing* out there, for miles) who is illuminating his little prairie psalter with vehicles and adroit use of heavy equipment. (I also assume he has some Celtic blood in the mix somewhere.)

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  9. oooooo what a write this is! it's so very "right" - the imagery, the flow, the concepts and ideas presented, I loved the whole thing - brilliantlly creative and so many wonderful lines I feel I need to point out - "when summer rode into January
    on a seahorse" - the entire second stanza (love leafdrunk) - love soul laces - and what a gem that last stanza is, filled with a history of poignance and power " so
    I drive with eyes closed
    drift to the side of a two lane night’s
    brownout desert, and bump
    myself still, afraid of the broken mirror
    afraid to get out of the crazy car
    and walk
    the crooked ghost town of my life." - brilliant write here!

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    Replies
    1. Thanks OT--coming from a fine poet such as yourself, it means a lot.

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