Monday, November 19, 2012

Airstream



A visitor





Airstream




The pursed mouth of air exhales,
annunciates in her cold speech;
the curtains blow like falling leaves;
why don't they tangle and knot
embracing a last grasp warmth;
why don’t they hold firm
instead of being wayward
wavering wind toys
gauze-incandescent thoughts,
open at the center, blasted by
downdrafted midnight?
Time shakes and throws
its skittering moment years,
dice across the table, rats rolling in a maze-race
tumbling for the cracks, running cinemascopically.
Blurred dancers preen remotely 
off the glass
turning their perfect ankles heliotropically,
all the ribbons fluttering
in the blowback of a broken screen.




~November 2012







Image: A Visitor, by bigcity al on flick'r
Shared under a creative commons license

15 comments:

  1. Uh huh, caught in the tumblin dice
    I love the contrast of breeze blown curtains and raining bricks.
    Pretty sure it's the first time i've seen heliotropically in a poem.
    Leave it to you to make it work

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Should be the first, since I think I made it up. Thanks, rick.

      Delete
  2. *shivers and shivers* 'gauze-incandescent thoughts,
    open at the center, blasted by
    downdrafted midnight' - i love this so much; listening to Chopin nocturnes and your lines accompany it perfectly. somber yet floating --- and the haunting image captivates.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, yelena. Appreciate the visit and the Chopin touch.

      Delete
  3. nice...really like your imagery in this...the view of the drapes is solid...my fav bit comes in the middle...the dice...

    Time shakes and throws
    its skittering moment years,
    dice across the table, rats rolling in a maze-race
    tumbling for the cracks, running cinemascopically...that is chock full of goodness...and grit a bit as well...the cracks....

    ReplyDelete
  4. Hi Joy - one of the things I like about this poem is that I first associate Airstream with the silver trailer. (I'm of that generation, I guess.) But that's kind of cool because there is an element of being in a capsule that's being rustled/invaded, and time itself a bit like a shaken capsule, and all the efforts to keep that little capsule safe, are well, not going to work. The place my mind sticks is the skittering moment years which describe a lot of my years - a wonderful description - and the blowback of the broken screen - agh.

    It seems like you've made some form work here - at least various slant rhymes and true ones too, but it's pretty subtle. k.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Actually, I don't think I'm really of the Airstream generation! But I've been around them. k.

      Delete
    2. They are cool--always wanted one, and I like your idea of capsules in a poem about time--we make them, but we can't keep them, indeed. Thanks, k.

      Delete
  5. yeah and i love the choice to use "blowback" here. heavy and light, somehow.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Heliotropes are great. So beautiful they deserve to be perennials. I always like to see shades of purple and blue in the landscape. Deep,receding,cool. A touch of mystery. To the spirit of wild hearts and the trunkfulls of memories to come. Two very sweet, uplifting videos. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That Stevie video I found purely accidentally--I just liked the feel of it, the reality, and man--what a celestial voice to come out of such a very human package--not all glamorized for the stage, just herself. Glad you enjoyed, Scott. I too am fond of blue and purple in the garden.I'm looking forward to some very deep blue hyacinths and dutch iris I recently planted.

      Delete
  7. Absolutely beautiful and poignant writing.

    ReplyDelete
  8. I love "cold speech" and "wavering wind toys". Who knew all that was on the breeze?

    ReplyDelete
  9. This has the most gorgeous dance of soft / hard sounds, stressed and unstressed. I lack the technical knowledge to really name what I'm hearing, but it's absolutely spectacular.

    ReplyDelete
  10. you had me at

    " The pursed mouth of air exhales,
    annunciates in her cold speech"

    a brilliant piece throughout!

    ReplyDelete

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