Thursday, April 16, 2015

Darkest Light


Love is a Riot, by Android Jones

Darkest Light






I came to the darkhouse
the windowless room
where reason left me
looking for eyes

feeling for a mouth;
to find
entire a face 
was more than it hoped--

and then to find your face--
your god-begotten voices
the cello-strung music and
caress of your madness.

Black balm burns the broken,
rubbing an outline in darkest light;
pulled hard at the margins,
stasis unfolds.

I'm fed breathing morsels,
crimson muscle torn-twisted, for
I am your  nestling,
become incandescent

as the windowless room
splits down the center;
you open your hand
like a dark light of wings.




~April 2015


Bird's Nest, by David Hess



posted for 

Magaly offers us a chance to fly (and I'm taking it, even if the flight is inside my head) with her challenge:
Flying Out of This World: Write a poem where the speaker travels to a parallel, but infinitely remote, universe




and for       real toads

where Lolamouse (Mouse Droppings)  brings us the concept of Visionary Art to work with. My Android Jones image comes from a google search for that thing, and I have linked to his website below, as well as to AVAM for the David Hess. I sincerely hope I have not violated any copyright on these images as some images at AVAM are very strictly protected by copyright. If so please e-mail me and I will remove anything objectionable.









Images: Love is a Riot, by Android Jones
No copyright infringement intended. Android Jones offers his artwork for download at his website, and also sells prints, t-shirts and other items at his store there.
Bird's Nest by David Hess, via American Visionary Art Museum
No copyright infringement intended. As always any image will be removed on request--email me at my profile link on the sidebar.

22 comments:

  1. "Like a dark light of wings". Breathtaking!

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  2. Powerful imagery. Also, that bird's nest is wacky! :-)

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  3. Highly powerful poem... it speaks to me through its eternal verses.. :)
    Beautifully executed :D
    xoxo

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  4. This was so good - the imagery was fantastic and I love the narrative and action.

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  5. Your head is out of this world...

    Love the concept of darkest light. Would love to know what grows there... mushrooms that fell in love with daisies that gave up the sun for the kiss of love? Perhaps. And they are whole in there.... looking at your mouth... with an entire face.

    Oh yes, I LOVE this one. ♥

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  6. I agree. I love "darkest light". I found many of those who called themselves "light bearers" once pushed me into darkness.

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  7. I love the internal journey and dark qualities of this poem, Hedge. Rich imagery and nice contrast in the closing...light arriving.

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  8. The darkest light of course, but also the second last stanza.

    I am your nestling,
    become incandescent

    wonderful writing.. :-)

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  9. I love this view of emerging from a shell. It's very powerful.

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  10. I could hear the cello strings crying in harmony and speaking in tongues of rebirth.

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  11. 'the windowless room' ~ spooky beginning and lightning at the end with 'a dark light of wings.' ~ Mighty poem! x

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  12. This one haunts with mythology of fire and ice~ I love it

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  13. The end is really a clincher here--there is something very compelling (and rather terrible) about having wings in a windowless room--and to have the room split in two, but without a sense of opening--Will the hands take you away--maybe for a little bit--but maybe (it seems) not for long--the being fed morsels of the fleshy stuff is also super striking--one can't help but feel it refers to morsels of the self. k.

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  14. Ps the idea of the feeling for the face and not having it be your own is also strong, reason almost becoming a reason to be. K.

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    1. Thanks, k. There are still some really awkward passages to me, but at this point in the month, you have to go with what you've got. ;_)

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  15. I think it was Parecelsus (or another alchemist-physician) who said that only like cures like, the the physic must burn the burning back with the same spiritual fire. If our creative sources are dark - oldest -- deepest -- most primal -- then it's not a bright Disney workroom we go whistling our way into. Can't be, for this old fool ... Of course, madness and creativity share the same navel, and the way to birth is death, so the usual hazards crowd the way -- insanity, angelic inflation, mood-changers, iambic pentameter. Do we shape the voice or surrender to it? Is it willed or dictation? Did our day profit one sou for the effort? (Mine never has.) Did it make love real or heal real sickness? Nah. But here we are again staring at the wall for the dark face to nose and brow and mouth into our vatic pre-adulterated selves. Sorry for going on, I just loved the encounter here. For better verse, the more ghoulish & rockabilly the hearse ... "Black balm burns the broken," indeed. All aboard and buckle up.

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    1. No, the darkhouse, the round room, is where we flirt with that enticing specter of madness, or is it sanity of the most quelling sort? Impossible to tell with no light, so we kindle these candles, and if they don't bring in a sou, they are also free. Thanks for reading, B--and your comments are always appreciated--it's so hard to find the time for discussion during this post-a-thon and the ensuing dance of comments, but I do value the time and effort you put into your observations, and think about what you have to say, always.

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  16. What powerful stuff! 16 days in a row, and I'm reduced to silliness, but this is a strong and compelling as ... well as your usual fare. Kudos, Hedge.

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    1. Thanks, Mary. You are doing pretty well yourself, if you ask me. And Lord knows, we need all the silliness we can get in this world. ;_)

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  17. Wow! The imagery in this is disturbing and haunting yet gorgeous! I love the opening with the sense of depersonalization as well as the ambivalent ending. Escape or destruction? You really nailed this one!
    BTW, Ingo Swann's paintings are REALLY wild to see up close!

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  18. the images are sensational. me, i'm impressed you can plough the dark and return with such nuggets; i'm reduced to writing about freaking wind chimes. in haiku. but waddya want, an epic? :) ~

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