Moondust
My body was deep
breathing
all god's cast up
references
when it caught the last
dusty angel
in its lungs, hacking till
I finally
coughed her out.
The feckless moon
spent her last coin
above the hill
where red stars twinkle; I
wonder why it is
nothing
twinkles here
but stars and
your dark eyes.
your dark eyes.
~September 2013
55 dusty moondrops for the g-man
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Oh, le sigh, le sigh. This reads so smoothly and pleasurably; there isn't a word--or an emotion--out of place. The very (poetic) idea of coughing up the last angel, and of the body seeming to do it on its own, sets up the second section where it is all slender hope and love that doesn't let go, even in the blue evening of things. I love what you've expressed here and how you assembled moondust and longing and put it on a page with such order and skill.
ReplyDeleteLove the two sides of this/ the break in the midst (or mist). I agree with Shay that the idea of coughing up the last angel is incredibly original and compelling. I think here of someone almost in a kind of library, stuck with all God's dusty reference volumes, trying to get some air-- on the other hand, they are also like those beings God turns to get some authority, to fill out his resume as it were, to accord him authenticity. Or just those that refer to God. Still so interesting to think of them as dusty--this is definitely a place without much liveliness! (Ha--except in the poetry.) The word hacking is such a good one here somehow--of course, you're coughing but there is something so slangy about the phrase--this makes the scene more vivid. The next stanza such a break, but it works. The moon being feckless and spending its last coin is just lovely - and the return to the dusty place without God's references is pretty cool. I'm taking it that the you of "your eyes" is not so referential re God. Very cool. k.
ReplyDeleteThanks, k--as always for your definitive exploration of the elements here, and for your insights. It's been a very silent week for my muse but felt good to finally write *something.*
Deleteall that glitters is not gold you know...smiles on choking on that last angel, coughing to get the last of it out...there are times i get enough god to choke a horse...all depends on whose god you are being fed you know...smiles...smooth joy....
ReplyDeleteLove the idea of a dusty angel. Or angelic dust. And twinkling eyes, sigh. That's all that has to twinkle. Lovely.
ReplyDeletei read this, i like this, quite a lot actually, very wistful. just letting you know! (hee hee.)
ReplyDeleteYour right Joy.....Over my head!
ReplyDeleteBUT....These seemingly disassociated words are arranged by you in a manner
that I just know means SOMETHING.
I feel like a pre-schooler sitting in Grad School.
I do love it when you excite the Illuminated ones though
Thanks for another Jewel of artistic expression.
Have a Kick Ass Week-End
It does indeed mean SOMETHING. What, I haven't exactly decided yet. When you figure it out, let me know. I'm still working on those three pictures. ;_)
DeleteHappy weekend, G, and thanks for all your dedication to the Friday funfest.
hacking a dusty angel... Obviously wasn't doing its job :) And I'll tell you a secret... dark twinkling eyes have always been my weakness - perhaps its a good thing the angel isn't around anymore ;P
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful, especially the twinkling stars and "your dark eyes".
ReplyDeleteLove "all God's cast up references" I wish your muse would speak to me. I probably couldn't spell what she whispered though.
ReplyDeleteGive me the twinkle of someone's eyes....and. please, don't make it a "coughed up" angel! What amazing poetry you write.
ReplyDeleteMy 55 is at: http://rnsane.blogspot.in/2013/09/friday-flash-55-help-september-27-in.html
Heck, I am even in love with "55 Dusty Moondrops...." so don't get me going on the poem itself. Besides, everyone else has that covered with nearly all the praise it deserves. I have missed being here, will try to come more often.
ReplyDeleteThis is a wonderfully moody piece, Hedge. Strangely enough, the two stanzas worked like two separate poems for me. I think the first is more centred on the personal experience of breathing/choking, while the second, which I was especially drawn to, turns our focus to the moon.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Kerry. It is in a way two separate poems for me too, but with a connection to the ongoing experience of the narrator. As always, your thoughts are much appreciated.
DeleteThose angels can be so hard to cough up! Love the twinkling stars and eyes!
ReplyDeleteThat first stanza is amazing - gruesome, aching, tragic. But, I'm bringing a lot of my own personal stuff to my reading.
ReplyDeleteDon't we all. The way it should be.
DeleteCrisp and resonant, this reads like a bell tone. I enjoy the sensation of going into and out of the body, then back in. A progress of one moment, a year, a lifetime. I do love a feckless moon, with her she brings a kind of unexpected, youthful zest. A very refreshing read!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jane. The other night the moon looked just like a worn ancient coin balanced on her side over the hill. And yes, it is very much a journey, a process, a discipline, and all of the above.
DeleteCoughing up angels and beautiful poetry, hedgewitch.
ReplyDeleteHedge, really inventive metaphor of the dusty angel in the first stanza, that hourglass/ twists so smoothly into the last coin image in the second. ~ M
ReplyDelete