Showing posts with label orion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label orion. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Starfall


Starfall




At the end of shared hours
when Orion comes down
different, half-human
dancing on stick legs
shaking that starry ass
wrapped in tigerbones rattling
and his buskins on fire,

when dust wind strips the juniper and
 ice roofs her sloe-eyed collection,
 when teeth tease at cardboard,
when giants below
once contained stir and wake,
pound the fragile ceiling
till dry-sucked stones shake,

then I step out with you here
in the chaos men make, where
our dance is illegal, semi-ruined as Orion
our possibilities too tight
our red shoes on fire,
while the plague ship sinks last
while the rough beast drinks chance.

In the deep doubt of sleep
it's dance, drop or cry
and we
are too young to die
too old to weep.


~February 2014







posted for     real toads
Challenge: Get Listed
Kenia Cris has chosen a science fiction focus for her word list prompt, and has used words from the Philip K Dick novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (loosely reincarnated in the movie Bladerunner,) which portrays a bleak, dystopian future that seems more likely and less sci-fi with every passing year. I have borrowed thirteen or so of these words here; for the full list see the Toads link above.


Process note: The Eastern Red Cedar(Juniperus virginiana) has berries that are blue-black in winter, like the berries of the blackthorn known as sloe. On stanza two: We have had drought, extreme cold, and ice storms here this winter, and  100-plus earthquakes and tremors in the last few days. Dry-sucked refers to the process of fracking.







Top Image: Untitled,1978,  by Zdislav Beksinksi via wikipaintings.org
May be protected by copyright. Posted here under fair use guidelines.
Footer: Study for the Spanish Dance, 1879, by John Singer Sargent
Public Domain, via wikipaintings.org









Monday, March 26, 2012

In the Yellow House

In the Yellow House



In the blue room of the sun
in the yellow house, 
behind terracotta walls
a tossed night is pulled from the bed
and thrown on a pile of other nights
wrinkled, indelibly lorn.
The woman hums as her hands stroke
farewell before it goes in the basket,
remembering the voice in the deep,
how she was loved
with words and lost in silence
far from this landlocked yellow boat
on a prairie sea, ribbed by the
bleaching shipwreck of her life, where 
in the front room she hears

the men say, 
Talk
is cheap.
It takes money to buy whiskey.

Light’s first nod is still a few miles away
across the grainfed graveyard out the window
where Orion sinks in another 
lightening quicksand sky, one foot
on a scruboak branch, both hands uplifted
to the horizon plummeting hawk sure,
hanging on to the moment
before his last fingertip slips past in the fade, 
drowned till tomorrow in star foam,
floating memories, the breaker crashed
ebb of the voice in her dream
softening away away, murmured in the constant
wind rasped fretting of the wheat, sleepless
as the oblivious sea;
so she knows

no wave is ever really gone
no word ever said wasted
no whiskey bought stronger
than what musics her morning song.



March 2012


Posted for    real toads
Today is Open Link Monday at real toads, and I am using a photo from the Sunday Challenge there, which featured Kat Mortensen, late to the party, as usual.Thanks, Kat!





Optional Musical Accompaniment


Image copyright Kat Mortensen
Used with permission.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Orion Rising

Orion



Orion Rising



Across the coliseum
celestial, Mars blinks his
red eye, battledancing
with the milky chimera.

I‘m caught in a glass twist,
shadow of river blue
fluorescing aquamarine 
afterglow  
where light once was
under a sky 
made before men
threw away
the gift of night.

No New York fortune
buys Orion rising,
tigertail dangling
my lifeline.





October 2011





(The discerning eye will note that this poem contains exactly 55 words,
and immediately realize it to be my entry for
Friday Flash 55 at the G-Man's.)