The third of three pomes all exploring absence in different ways. While not completely successful, it is the most successful of the three.
every so often your absence
is more noticeable, like today
the removed from the rainbow
…a heart only air
the that is all hole
…a night without any stars
the bullet the glass
…a spine with every missing
the who cannot blow fire
…a fish without
BONUS POEM: April 19, 2018
It can speak for itself.
swan wings : the saw of the air : the piece : oftentimes : of return : the peace : the safety of a new place : where no one : any one : has their way : but every one : will prosper : coming through the lock : reflection ripples : relentless birdsong : playing dogs : oars up & back : leaping into the unknown river : willowy light : birthplaces : spires into memory : across time : making a mark : that lasts
An auspicious start to the day. Happy 95th Birthday gran.
day of birth
air of gold sky of water
bow of rain leaves of blood
a promise of home
BONUS POEM: April 17, 2018
One of the highlights of the trip is seeing these little critters first hand. Pookie you’ve got a lot to answer for.
now seen : a dozen, more?
frozen tension : quicksilver bounce : flag fluttering frenzy : the business end ; of the gymnast’s ribbon : electrified question marks
still every time : there’s a flash : a furry pulse : an extrapolated heartbeat : I experience : a silken thrill : of my own
Well yesterday’s experiment didn’t quite get the response I was hoping for. Hahaha, oh well. (There’s still time to go back & play if you want to. Read Day 16 & comment at the end for a chance to win a special prize – it has to be on my blog, fb & twitter comments don’t count.)
Maybe that’s why writing today was tough. I was a bit down. Tried a few things. Messaged a friend in the states just as he’d woken from a bad dream (it was 3am in Maryland). We talk a bit about bad dreams. I never have them (though I have woken myself up from laughing in my dreams & in my body at the same – glorious sensation – although I think it’s how the dali lama must feel). Tried to write about that, meh! Tried to write about my friend’s scary dream of being left alone, meh.
Then this came out. Of nowhere. Not sure I understand it. Pretty sure I like it.
Half-woken scraps of you swirl round
the half sunrisen gloom of my room
through tannin-thick wetpaper-thin skull
Like souls of men recently killed
on a battlefield, afraid to leave
We have not spoken in two weeks
keep eyes closed as long as I can
these torments all I have of you
A herd of cats claw my legs
tripping me, demanding to be fed
For while I only half-remember
the dreams, I’m reluctant
to relinquish what little I have
So I leave the black shroud cloth
covering my eyes & drift
It is a prism refracting weak light
each intersection of weft & weave
it’s own rainbow link to another world
Opaque, shiny as an insect’s eye
Then. I. Don’t. Care.