Tuesday, November 27, 2012

driving from there to there there were

driving from there to there there were

shadows on the castle,  my splinterless foot-- holed
pressed on the pedal   light dripped 
down the dreamcatch feather 
hanging, the rectangle mirror watching 
my back-- no!-- gaping: fool, trickster 
(the objects closer than they appear    the objects 
in the blind spots):   
                            but how low, how beautiful still the light 
dripped down the feather's blue   its blue fading
as blue will 
fade from creatures put in drawers
full of paper   spare screws   time 

                                                   before the feather   I was pulling apart 
                                                   a piece of cotton    warming oil, filling
                                                    a woman's ear full 
                                                   with sweet then filling
                                                   her ear with cotton like burial   
                                                   who's there she asked my moving lips  

                                                                                                      tell her 
tell her

I am singing who I am
                                               singing high to reach the jar on the high shelf 
                                               inside a Morphos flitting blue against glass    

and then I am calling
where are you    the woman
her ear full of cotton 
needles in    answers here
her silver goes digging 
in skin in time
my throat curls 
on itself--
like sign language 
fingers who make
the letter e

someone should tell the story--

                              the story which came before 
tweezing the sliver   the story before 
Morphos heaves in the jar

the story for which 
the splinter is the relic to hold 
at times  the story   which can not be forgotten


  1. As with all your poems I've read, this is beautiful. I like your use of "blue" and "sweet" as nouns - it's a technique that always caught my attention when I read your poems at SLC. I remember once you used "brokens" that way, I think...

    "its blue fading/as blue will/fade from creatures put in drawers/full of paper" - my favorite line. When I read this poem I feel a sense of urgency, as though the narrator half partially wants to conceal something, partially wants to express. I think this sense of conflict and tension, along with the beautiful language, is one of the most appealing characteristics of this poem.

    1. Rose,
      Just seeing this! I have a comment! Repeat: i have a comment. ! Thank you. As ever your noticings are themselves noticing-worthy. Thank you for sharing them--
      I was not aware of the tension
      there, at least not consciously
      your insight into my poem/self
      will sit with me a while,

      thank you.