Saturday, November 12, 2005

Chapters part 5

Chapter 12: that spoonful (inspired by)

drinking her fuschia frozen drinks she
shreds duct tape like a letter lost
or a bitter smell left on a microphone
the specter of space left by all these lights
& his voice is like frost that i've heard before
& her instruments of the dead are waking
& she will not play.

it's like baking ice, the slow degrees
in which we melt esoterically
into brocade & brick,
meaning nothing, in this room
that barely exists.
what artistry twangs in front
of our pixellated eyes
tick tick ticking into spacetime?

he loves me because I
feed him clementines
in December's first morning
with Sunday's light snow
a pale scrim over winter grass.
he loves me when the light
streams in sideways
through a clementine
& its energy & veins
are revealed.


Chapter 13: "it was bothering me, the way it was."

he wore his hood for the first part of the journey,
blue, & last night I mourned for my pixels
vanished into the bar
that was & wasn't the bar I remember.

as a result I have no choice
but to try to describe that mirror, angled,
how it threw back all those tiny lights
to the hatless & the ones without scarves.

it was his birthday party so we
ate his photograph, melting as we went.
I recognized a dragon & a few of the postcards,
& plans were made to retrieve my umbrella.

this morning a Zen breakfast of eggs & chess
taking space in garret light
like a three-dimensional puzzle of glass.
before we left I tried to relate the dream:

she was deep in the lake, bathing someone's child,
& there was a kind of glass over the world,
but everthing else was lost, like the significance
of that luminous pink gem like a flower.

I wish I could have explained
what the ring meant, before we set out
these 2-laned tree-ways
to a familiar destination.

the accoutrements of urban warfare
are out of place here in restive rivers & rivulets,
the proof is in the engine-gone-bad
reverberations.

fish strung in the corporate window
& neon toll-free banners pasted like so many
"Paid" stickers from the grocery store
where I am sorry you'll be missing the disco.

I haven't said anything in awhile,
I hope you don't mind driving.

8 little fish:

Blogger mysfit swam up to say...

favorite lines from ch.12:
& her instruments of the dead are waking
& she will not play.


yay more jenn poetry to make my sun shine - just between the two of us, i like the first chapter lots, but the second one is difficult, i read it twice and the rhythm is strange - i mean i know it has some oneiric triggers and that's part of it and your line breaks in ch.13 are, of course, part of it too but still something's not quite there in ch.13 (hey the title fits quite well, incl. the number)

11:45 AM  
Blogger jenn see swam up to say...

yep chapter 13 is pretty jarring, but i feel like there's something in there still trying to get out...it's an awkward process, especially the bit where i have to read my intoxicating handwriting from, what, a year ago? it's another planet, another language.
but not sure the stuff i'm writing at the moment is fit for publication.

6:02 PM  
Blogger jenn see swam up to say...

i meant intoxicated.

6:03 PM  
Blogger jason evans swam up to say...

My favorite:

he loves me because I
feed him clementines
in December's first morning
with Sunday's light snow
a pale scrim over winter grass.

11:42 AM  
Blogger IanBradley swam up to say...

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12:09 PM  
Blogger jenn see swam up to say...

clementines are always exquisite. has very little to do with me, i just call it like i see it.

aha, ian/z, i see you've discovered the Wide & Wonderful World of comment spam. at least they're friendly...
& i would very much like a small tribe of martians, but my credit's not so great, so i dunno...

1:27 PM  
Blogger mysfit swam up to say...

yeah there is something that is trying to get through that ch.13 out into the air to breathe, but considering the # is that such a good thing?

p.s. i already had an army of small tribal martians - thanks

1:46 PM  
Blogger jenn see swam up to say...

i always want "spectre" to be spelled like the british spell it but i just can't justify it to myself.

2:45 PM  

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