Sunday, June 29, 2014

Persistence of Notion


Persistence of Notion






It's a long walk
away from yourself
from your carefully assembled
hands and feet
from your chalkboard smile
into the heat
where things form and break
in the suncradle crucible
rocking, melting
joining of grains, of drops
shifting towards
then away
from themselves.

It's a long trip
away from the past
walking shapeless sand
with sacked shell-shatter to carry.
When it's finally laid down
spilled out, you can't stop
looking back at the pieces
pulling together,
pulsing, alive,
waiting
to regrow smile
and feet
and follow you.


~May/June 2014





posted for    real toads
Sunday Challenge: Avant-edge

Kerry O'Connor gives us the ultimate avant-garde challenge--to write as if there were no challenge at all. So, I've fished this one, written on a whim, out of the cauldron and revised it today.







Image: Shell and Rocks Arrangement, 1931, by Edward Weston (photo)
May be protected by copyright. Posted under fair use guidelines via wikiart.org


Friday, June 27, 2014

Not Love


Not Love






Laying in our single skin
eye to eye amalgamate
sewn together aggregate
to float the amniotic sea
waiting to be born
you couldn't use a word like love
so small, so ego-ish, presuming choice
of masks, of roles, all fantasy
too many strings, obscuring voice
of one silence-shredding scripted  horn.

No, more a centaur mythed to be
living dual without control
hooved with chaos black and gold
unrolled, unroled, itself the work
unfolding terrible and bright
as the amaranthine dancestep
at sun's core, but purely animal
the way that flesh and fur keep hurt
burnt deep below the liminal
too-knowing glance, the sharp white bite.




~June 2014





A contrarian  ten-line stanza form I just invented, and a poem for no prompt whatsoever. 
Rebel rebel--my hair's a mess.







Image: Struggle Between Woman And Centaur,  circa 1905, by Odilon Redon
Public Domain, via wikiart,org





Saturday, June 21, 2014

After The Fever








After The Fever



The south wind knows I'm not the same
since the fever, re-shaped
from smoke, flower-dust and partings,
lust drowned, all melt and gape;
never
been as strong, forever
starting
at sounds inside the wall
a clatter fox-foot quick that came
when things began to fall.

The east wind knows I've never had
any man who turned me 
in his hand like the fever, but
the breath that burned me
leaving,
how it came out cleaving,
so cut
the mind  to clarity,
so scoured clean both good and bad--
that is a parity.


~June 2014





posted for     real toads





Play It Again Challenge
Kerry unearths three excellent former Toads memes for us to play with this weekend., a revisit of one of Izy's photo prompts, a particularly excellent Fireblossom Friday, and, for me the one impossible to resist: one of her superlative form challenges, the Robert Herrick Stanza. As always,Kerry, this was a challenge in every sense.






Photo: Eyelid to Eye, copyright joyannjones 2012-2014



Friday, June 20, 2014

Octaves Under A Full Moon


Octaves Under A Full Moon





The moon hadn't come past the chimney yet
slow sailing the night like a laden ship.
An unquiet woman worked to forget
the line of a leg, the rock of a hip;
no rind's so empty as that of regret,
no cup so full into which it can't slip.
She drank, she sipped green leaves and December,
tried to forget, or hoped to remember

till the moon came over the chimney at last
till wind combed her hair from front to back
till night had its way with today, with the past.
the stars snuffed out, the clouds gone black,
the white hot spotlight marked over the grass
its honey and lamp oil, fancy not fact,
dust storm desire runs ravenous red
not to blow out the fire but flare it instead.



~June 2014








posted very late, a short ottava rima for Kerry's  Sunday Form Challenge: Yeats' Octaves

 at    real toads







 Images: Moonlight, The Old House, 1906, by Childe Hassam
Landscape of Ruins and Fire, 1914, by Felix Vallotton
Public domain via wikiart.org