Thursday, April 24, 2014

Monkeys



Monkeys


Who have we seen?
Who have we been
on the back of the other self?




You had a monkey
on your shoulder
and you gave it apricots
as if a piece of dried fruit and you
made up for
the whole lost jungle,
the tiny tribe.

Under a sky of sin and cyan
drenched with a pearl grey ruin
we walked as you fed me those words,
an inking of dry kisses
apricot sweet,
in exactly
the same way.




Who have we seen?
Who have we been
in the jungle that lost its self?

~April 2014












Process Notes. Another dream. Apologies if this seems a bit incoherent--I have left it as it was given to me, beyond a little minor tinkering. 







Image: Two Chained Monkeys, 1562, by Peter Bruegel the Elder
Public domain via wikipaintings.org

13 comments:

  1. each morning I struggle to remember before the dream fades - rarely succeeding. that line: "under a sky of sin and cyan" is a marvel, and that image helps cohere the whole ~

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  2. this is a very cool one. I agree with M. about the sin and cyan and the pearl grey ruin being beautiful lines but I am mainly struck by the central metaphor. Although here the monkey is on the shoulder, I can't help thinking of the monkey on the back--the addictive quality of certain relationships for both actors--and although the apricot seems like perfect food for a monkey there is something rather ironic about its "ape" quality. The loss of jungle here really like the loss of self. Agh. Great job. k.

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  3. I find your dream poetry fascinating, and here is one without a word wasted, each image left to fall crisply on the imagination. There are some hellishly good lines in the poem, which I wish I had thought of myself, especially the lost jungle of the tiny tribe.. and the rue of those apricot kisses.

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  4. The second stanza is stunning! I am enchanted with your dream like quality. I too can't help but think of the Monkey on one's back. I love the reference to the apricot-as the golden fruit~

    Wonderful, Hedge~ My new favorite!

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  5. ouch on the second stanza...appeasing...is the feel...like that monkey on the shoulder (or back) the echo of the questions at the beginning and the end is quite effective hedge....

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  6. This is an incredible piece, Hedge. Spare, surreal, and so full of truth.

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  7. Under a sky of sin and cyan
    drenched with a pearl grey ruin....wow. A great piece.

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  8. Humans are such arrogant creatures. And this controlling relationship with the monkey as the same template for the relationship with the narrator is such an indictment, "as if it could make up for the whole lost jungle...." And the opening and slightly altered closing are the perfect book ends to hold this. Brilliant.

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  9. There is such a heartbreaking, far from home feel to this, and its surreal aspect only makes the lostness more poignant. I love the questions. I love it all. It has a haunting quality like a children's rhyme soaked in melancholy.

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  10. I wish I did dream...I fall into nothingness where visions can't find me. I agree there is melancholy in this, but also I feel the questioning is opening a door to take an inward look to re-evaluate self and find those places where we need to clean house.

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  11. Hope all okay--missing your midnight poem. You may have given yourself a well-deserved rest. k.

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    1. Not feeling too hot yesterday, and absolutely no inspiration--Margaret has thankfully provided that today or who knows if this whole project might have come to a crashing halt. ;_)

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  12. There is simple clarity here-- simple and gorgeous in fact. I am smitten my your colors, but also by the tie-together of the persons with the sentiment. It reminds me that words can easily over-emphasize, or under-emphasize a situation. I think what we try to harness in poetry, is that which does both and neither at the same time. This accomplishes. When a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound if no one is there to hear it? Who have we been in the jungle that lost itself? THis dream is def. worthy of attention. Its spiral makes for interesting consideration.

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