Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Skin of Fog



Skin of Fog




It was just another battle
in a pack of rattle 
days, seven
savage identical dogs
to bark me craven.

I was already broken-jawed,
that time I reached up
and kissed the fog.

The quiet came down.
The bleeding stopped.
Black became white, fright
became night, 
with its dreams and songs;

something thawed
that time I laid down
to love the fog.

I put it on for a skin.
I ate it for cake.
Fog and I covered the whispering lake
in  a dance of intransigence, all for fog's sake;
but days are strong thugs.

They hustle the sun, push a fever dream
full of the race
as an Eskimo's sled team


with alphas first-fed
where skin must be furred, where naked is dead
while fog melts away, a meringue baby's kiss
to a wetness, dry lips,
an armor like this.



~December 2013

Hairy sled dog


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Out of Standard: Eskimo
The inventive mind of Isadore Gruye once again asks us to write about something without drawing on its main associations, in this case Eskimos and snow, and their supposed many words for it. So, this poem is not about either one, at all. Mostly.


If you would like to hear the poem read by the author, please click below(first reading in a long time so it is a bit rough, bear with me):







NOTE: MY MONITOR SEEMS TO BE DEVELOPING ISSUES...SIGH...IF I VANISH IT WILL BE BECAUSE IT GOES OUT--i GUESS i SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT A NEW ONE WITH THE NEW PC BUT ITS ONLY A FEW YEARS OLD. RIGHT NOW ITS LIKE I'M TYPING IN A DARK CAVE BY CANDLELIGHT, WHEN IT ISN'T FLICKERING AWAY LIKE A STROBE. i JUST HOPE IT'S NOT MY VIDEO CARD. GAH!!!!!!

Top image: Evening Mist on Lake Thun,by Ferdinand Hodler, 1908
Public domain via wikipaintings.org
Bottom: Hairy Sled Dog, by greenland_com on Flick'r
Shared under a Creative Commons license.



32 comments:

  1. You have such a creative imagination! Amazing!

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  2. gosh the rhymes in here blow me away, HW. whoosh!

    I was already broken-jawed,
    that time I reached up
    and kissed the fog.

    and

    something thawed
    that time I laid down
    to love the fog.

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  3. You have a sensual reading voice, caressing this write. The rhyme both hints and conceals, lulling and lilting. ~

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    1. Thanks, M. I have a soft spot for rhyme. Glad you liked the reading---you have much more of a poet's voice than I do, though.

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  4. Your final line catapulted me out of a paradigm, i think. In my reading, the fog is a lover And death And sustenance And experience. I love that fifth stanza a whole lot. During my first read through, I thought.... how amazing to have these sensuous phrases running around in one's head! I enjoyed listening to your reading. Wonderful, poetry-inspiring poetry, Hedge.

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    1. Thank you Jane. Yes, it is all of that and more. So glad you enjoyed the fifth stanza--usually my poems come easiest at beginning and end, but that part just fell out of the sky into my lap and was very satisfying-feeling. Appreciate your kind words very much.

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  5. days as thugs! gosh. I enjoyed hearing your voice, so convincing on "something thawed" that day, and then the rest of the story takes over. The with, where, and while of the last stanza melt, one coda after another.

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  6. A powerful write, and a softer but equally powerful read.
    K

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  7. Agh. Lost comment. Here goes. The sounds here is especially wonderful, the rhyme and slant rhyme and echoed rhyme ==a bit like the odd slants here between fog and frost and fog and thaw and also, important for me, between armor and amour--a wonderful echo at the end--I love the return to the dogs-- and also to this kind of somberness- the rattle at the beginning a bit like a death rattle- and the nakedness pretty grim--

    The poem feels like it gets more compressed more rushing as it moves along--with images packed. The alpha-fed first--however you have it==very strong and the day thugs wonderful.

    I am at office and can't listen. Wonderful intense poem. k.

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    1. Sorry about the lost comment--that happened to me at Kerry's the other day,very aggravating! The rhymes were really tricky in this one as they were the kind that had very obvious pairings(fog/dog/kiss, lake/sake etc) =instant cliche, so I did a lot of formatting to starch them up a bit. I appreciate you going through all your thoughts over again, and as always I really am grateful for the way you illuminate my poems back to me. Thanks, k. very much.

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  8. wowwzers hedgey. I loved your reading of this piece, almost as much as I love this poem. I loved how the rhyme scheme was a little jilted to even out pacing and given the thing a voice all of it's own. All, mad respect to all the richness of your imagery. I would trust very few to write a good poem about just fog, but here you bring it to life, trot it about town and even throw in a little cake and dancing. Each poem you write is a new favorite of mine. Thanks for sharing your gifts with the garden!

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    1. Always my pleasure, Izy. You know I love the way you twist my brain in knots with your anti-obvious challenges. Look forward to seeing yours.

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  9. Oh...I think your reading is absolutely on fire, Hedge! I just love how much more depth hearing you read brings to this piece. The sound play and pairing of rhymes are such a musicality...carrying your reader through on the wings of this mysterious mist...I so enjoyed this!

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  10. tight. i love the relationship to the fog...fog has always given a feel of mystery, of what you can not see just beyond sight...i like the laying down with it, wrapping yourself in it and even taking it in as cake...but the cruel days...yes they beat away the feg...

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    1. feg...ha...fog...yeah, its been a long day and i am soon to bed...smiles.

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    2. Feg, fog, fig, fug---eh, who cares. ;_) Just glad I'm not the only one with fat fingers. Thanks for reading, Bri.

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  11. I LOVE "seven
    savage identical dogs
    to bark me craven."

    Wonderful.

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  12. Beautiful, beautiful sound to this one. I had to read it aloud, myself!

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  13. I read your poem on my iPad .. knew I had to listen to your voice before leaving a comment ... the eerie / beautiful tone in your voice echoed the fog of the poem ... and I LOVE it!! A gift ...

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  14. Please observe where the Inuit Canines go
    And don't you eat that Jaundiced frozen precipitation.

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    Replies
    1. Very appropriate advice today, G. See ya later.

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  15. Fog rarely lasts long enough - I will rise early at times on those mornings when fog is here - I adore watching the surroundings slowly appear - love photographing it. I mentioned I'd adore living in the mountains some day, my Father-in-law said there wasn't' enough sun, way too much fog. Well, to each his own, I guess.

    Your poem is exquisite - I listened to you read it twice - a soft voice so fitting with the theme. I was completing floating … until reading the above comment and I burst out laughing. Leave it to the "G-Man". ha ha

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    1. Yes, he is the literary critic extraordinaire. ;_) Thanks Margaret. I'm glad you enjoyed it. We hardly ever have fog here, so when we do it's sort of magical feeling. When I lived in San Francisco though it was more cold, damp and depressing--but hey, that's my kind of weather. I can only imagine what your lens could do with it.

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  16. I really love your rhymes in this, Hedge. My favorite part was this:

    I put it on for a skin.
    I ate it for cake.
    Fog and I covered the whispering lake
    in a dance of intransigence, all for fog's sake;

    Thinkin' that just as the Eskimo has a hundred words for snow--or so they say--there must also certainly be very different kinds of fog, some we generate ourselves, yes?

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  17. This has a great lyrical quality to it especially when you read it. I love the complex irregular rhymes also. (thanks for the tip on Goddesses - it's on my list now for sure)

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  18. Sometimes surrender to a mind of winter is the condition of survival--not a bad conceit, when the alternatives are so fanged ... Fog isn't snow but it's close, and wintry fog is worse than its flaky cousins; since there's already a snow-man in the canon, a fog-woman is apropos, perhaps, though that's just silly gendered nonsense. The abrupt metrical in the third line turned the incantation around the other way for me, getting under what the topic was getting under. Mornings are foggy here in Florida right now, like breath from a skull, not icy but cloying anyway. (Lots of traffic accidents in this fog, expecially when the brush fires start up). So a foggy mind -- or song -- is a good breastplate against thug days. Amen. - Brendan

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    1. Gendered but not nonsense, I think. Anyway, you nail the state I was going for with the Stevens parallel. I have to admit I wrote some of this before reading your Aqua Poetics, and the rest of it after, and I believe that gave it a different emphasis than when the muse first did her little morning whisper-thing, where I just frantically jot. So thanks for helping me shape the fog, also for the Florida analog, which is extremely expressive. And of course, thanks for reading--see below for the latest monitor report. ;_)

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  19. PS sometimes monitors are self-adjusting to what they think is the outside light -- with my Powerbook I have to constantly change the monitor brightness in settings. You might want to check the monitors setting in your control panel. Maybe your fog spooked it. - B

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    1. I wish. First i tried the little button thingies on the side--nothing. Then, it took me two days of blind, eyeball-boiling squinting to work my way through the WinH8 non-interface to the parts of the Control Panel where you adjust the monitor manually there--alas, it has absolutely no effect. I also have adjustments available if I let my Nvidia graphics card take over, but NO...I am marooned in this fog-enshrouded, darkness, which feels almost eerily cavelike-- Return to Lascaux!---my other old monitor won't hook to the new pc, so it looks like I will be ordering a new one. Hopefully this one will remain semi-functional til then.

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  20. Such a wonderful and imaginative piece..."something thawed that time I laid down to love the fog." That is just one of the many things I love about this poem. I am always awed by your writing.

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  21. I'm so glad I got the chance to read this poem - I love the whole idea of loving the incorporeal fog. You give it weight in this moody enthralling piece.

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