a poem for any bruised body.

 

 

 

First, insane persons love,

imagine themselves swept in the rich wings

of Chagall's angels, perhaps "La Branche"

where feet abound in trees and the red horse is fed.

And among all of this

a crazy person can do such lovely things,

justly the first qualification of being 'off'.

The second being the inability to

match your blacks since my sister

seems breathless because of it.

 

You can't truly trust your feelings. Mother only

says she feels good on Sundays, on her way

from church. Monday thru Saturday she fills with

gas like an old woman balloon, her skin

as tight, as close as a brown chrysalis/

where the gossamer wet wings wave with those same

dirt gloves.

 

I have sat in that garden. Lasted there face down

on Cullen's headstone for hours, hell, for days,

trying to tell rhythm from racism,

animus from adventure. I wake each night at

3:22am in the dreams I speak of wanting washboard abbs,

religiously taking my 81mlg aspirin for a longer torment/

 

wishing for that lush meadow of blue brush-stroke skies.

Desiring an exit from the poems yet written; any good

and decent ending for all that has happened;

for all that hesitance deems poetic.

 

 

dana

 

 

Reviews

[writing mojo]

again your megaphone bones riddle from first hand accounts living like a tesie fly feasting on an arm always set at half past biological clocked ...amazing piece

[Clara]

Dana, you are spectacular in your writing.
I love that you touched on such a relevant topic and injected such truth into it.

You had me at, 'You can't truly trust your feelings'.
Perhaps feelings shouldn't be paramount but so many of us, write because we feel something.
Ironic and raw. Love this.

[Robbie~xoxo~]

This is a visceral bruising... I felt the melancholic tone of this piece...
I must say Dana, you have a voice like no other....

Will your poetic void be filled, I wonder??

"wishing for that lush meadow of blue brush-stroke skies.

Desiring an exit from the poems yet written; any good

and decent ending for all that has happened;

for all that hesitance deems poetic"~ Well penned, my friend!~xoxo~

[kmartell]

You are such a good writer, man. The flow of this is amazing. Words which have "color" and convey the truthful maturity, candor, light,.... I love "Mother says she only feels good on Sundays, on her way from church...and the rest of that stanza. Almost a Saul Bellow poem, if Saul Bellow had written a poem.

This challenges me to start working more on my own writing, to write better. thanks, kmartell

[Corset]

The second being the inability to match your blacks since my sister seems breathless because of it.

rotflmao. Dana you are too much.

You too? I do that at 3:22 am also! not the aspirin thing though, wish for washboard abs. Is it any wonder I am so fascinated with your mind?

[emmajoy]

' .. her skin ~ as tight, as close as a brown chrysalis/ ~ where the gossamer wet wings wave with those same ~ dirt gloves. ' .. .. a fantastic placing of words.. l

Seems a world where words more often or not persecute the thought-hums in your mind.. An abstraction of pictures and associate phrases, imagination muddled with relatives and their relative effect on your very special fluctuating self. Perhaps? Read this four times, each time resulted in muddled conclusions.. but i need to see how you react, see if i'm anywhere near your thinking. Scream at me, needs be.