Monday, April 21, 2014

Heart Warrior


Heart Warrior






That gone summer, my heart was rolled flat
to cut out the shape of water
with a sugared silver punch.

Ever since, light passes through me
giving neither shadow nor
reflection, and

what falls away uses the petaldrop
of old flowers to synchronize
its random strip, sliding

unimpeded through the moon
shaped holes
while the red warrior glow

is just a waver
waived to witchlight in
the bloodshot eye of night.






~April 2014






Image: Untitled, Zdislav Beksinski
May be protected by copyright. Posted under fair use guidelines
via wikipaintings.org

17 comments:

  1. that 2nd stanza floors me. witchlight, indeed ~

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    1. Thanks, M. It's a word I really like and try to use sparingly, but every so often it creeps out of the tags and into a poem.

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  2. so did you write this to the red moon the other night?
    punching out water shaped holes...intriguing...some nice consonance in this as well with the w's...its got a mystical/magical air to it...

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    1. Thanks, bri. Actually, I did write it around that time, thinking of the way the earth's shadow passing influences our perceptions of the moon, which remains, of course, exactly the same rock it always is.

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  3. Interesting conflation here, lover and warrior both in the smashed terrain of a heart. The first stanza is a jaw-dropper --heart as the shape of water, formed by a sugared silver punch. There's a connection between the lover's silver and warrior's red that I can't quite catch, and the last stanza doesn't quite have the horsepower of the first. I have no idea how to come close to stuff like this every day.

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  4. So, I'm going to try again today--on an infernal device (due to computer issues) but a bigger one--
    This has such mordant and original wordplay--It is quite convoluted in its way though I think matters of the heart do work that way--so many words are homonyms of sort or near homonyms and you use the other meanings as echoes of your main lines.

    First--and this may not be one of the homonyms, but I love "that gone summer," which is so much more direct and really lost than "bygone" ==also something about the gone summer and the heart rolling flat brings up to my childhood suburban mind the idea of a car rolling over it or steam roller as much as a rolling pin--the sugared silvered punch - is a very strange idea but very cool--at first with the sugar and water, I was actually thinking of punch, then of course, hit, and then finally, hole punch--and I understood then too (to my mind anyway) the shape of water as, at least in part, the shapes of raindrops, or other drops-- but the odd thing is that there is still that notion of the punch and a jug of water washing around in my reading--which is fine because it brings up a kind of party atmosphere and concomitant cruelty (going also with the punch in the gut.) The little droplets shapes of water work with the hole puncher though and the moon holes and the way that things are stripped through and the neither shadow or reflection--on my infernal device a little afraid to look up again-- I confess it is harder for me to connect the petaldrop of the flowers, but I think that is largely personal, and not mechanically tied here--and it is a very torturous kind of dropping--the waver waived to the witchlight is of course particularly intriguing to me as an attorney--I do get the wavering nature of the redlight, and I'm guessing that it's taking a second seat to the witchlight (for which I at least am grateful), because of course the voice of the poet/warrior here is confident despite all the internal riddling. (Riddling is a good word here, I think.) Anyway, super interesting and all will like without the parsing--sorry--I just know that your words have such an impressive sheen, I think people gloss over the actual steps to get there--I don't know that I've caught them, but I know that there are specifics going on--that's why the sheen works. Keep going. k.

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    1. PS--I am sorry to post such an early comment, and hope doesn't influence other's reads. There are all kinds of shapes of water, etc. and I think sieves and draining etc. but lots of room for other stuff here--poems speaking to people in different ways. k.

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    2. Thanks, k, as always for seeing so much in my words. I truly appreciate your feedback, always. I started out with holes and drops, and finally hit on the water-shape--in fact, it all started as a cooking simile, very basic, so a lot of what you've pulled out is very true to how this poem grew to its final form--I don't know how you find all this buried stuff, but I do appreciate you always taking the time to explore the trackless wastes for the spoor of the fleeting idea. ;_) I hope you have a better week this week.Nine more days!

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  5. I find it so difficult, to put the way I sometimes feel into words - it needs a fine skill of abstract writing to grasp the edge of our conscious - subconscious minds, and this is something you do so well.

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  6. Another weird, other-worldly beautiful painting by Beksinski, whom you've introduced me to. Your words are just as oddly mysterious and alluring.

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  7. I love the opening stanza, but to me, it is the second one that amazes the most. Light that passes through a body so static that it doesn't even give shadow or reflection (or refract, apparently). Then you take that light and strain it down to just the essential red. What you can do with a concept that I would never even come up with in a month of Sundays is astonishing, stark and rich at the same time.

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  8. I'm horribly lost ( read it three times) but it sounds wonderful as all your work does.

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  9. We make much out of the moon that has remained the same, but is transformed by atmosphere into a perception of extraordinary. Maybe we need it...

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  10. this seems as much about what IS as what IS NOT. gorgeous emphasis on negative space. I love the bloodshot eye of night, it becomes the lens, in a way, for the poem. amazing how u find such depth this far into the month,

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  11. Hedge, the effect of the moon looms large in this, and I love her so much, that woman in the sky, that I was captivated. "The bloodshot eye of night" reminds me of our recent moon in which she was allowed to hussy up in a red dress, ha ha.

    Captivating and so delicately worded. Hedge, you are a marvel! Amy

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  12. Your words conjure so many shapes and scenes. Image-filled.

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