Living Garments I See

Posted: July 8, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

that pinprick of light

pointed onto eyelids,

already a headache begun,

why was the sun so bright,

why did i drink so much vodka,

attempting to keep them shut

scratched fuzz on my stomach,

the sun should not be so bright,

obstinately opened eyes one then

other,

crazy reaction as if all

bipolar and horizontal cells

told the cortex,

what i had seen yesterday was shit

color so enhanced,

beyond glass sky surreal

clouds detected as moisture atoms

that if caught would dissolve in your palm,

clammy not from heat,

but a deep nausea,

everything carried on the axons of retinal

ganglions was transformed,

remembering Suzy,

bedclothes, sheets , cotton,

weave so visual looking as if to crumble

at a touch,

Suzy on her stomach face and breasts

pressed flat,

bare flesh across her spine seemed like

canvas ,a tarpaulin to fold and place away

everything had changed,

what drugs did i use last night,

irregular breathing

even my senses had altered

hard floorboards became springy

as if sap flowed through them again

not caring i was naked at the window,

wanting to be outside,

summer was at its height,

kids played at the hydrant at the end

of the street,

grass a blanket to be rolled,

earth molecules under compressed

could dissolve and turn to dust,

no rain for two weeks,

everything had become garments

on this planet,

removable interchangeable,

air tasted of sky particles

elemental pieces tingling tongue

pollution sour,

could i feel lightning

as it burned in my stomach

acid thunder rumbled,

could i project light beams

that was silly,

lying down

cortex overloaded,

sky lowered to face,

some fragrances carried

as particles caught and molded into

balls,

if i spat would it rain

torrents pouring from my mouth,

occipital lobe altered again,

having become an ultimate being

not afraid of my earth anymore,

i raised grayer clouds

so they could pour over me

so that i too became a garment

of the earth.

 

Comments
  1. chris says:

    such intensity of sensation. so rich, tactile, visual…just love this. evocative at an almost atomic level.

  2. aprille says:

    Hiya Chris,
    There’s enough material here to cut a dozen poems….
    don’t be wasteful putting it all in one :-)
    Overwhelming riches of words pictures and mind trails.
    BTW, you make it sound as if Kirby is on the equator.
    We shall have to take a trip up there to get warm
    and finally stop shivering.

  3. I like the flesh across her spine as a canvas, no rain making everything a garment. Really this read like a scene from a movie, maybe Scorsese.

  4. Ah, painful reminders of what the next day can feel like. Really well described.

  5. ManicDdaily says:

    A very vivid picture of hangover/depression. Depression barometric and interior. k.

  6. Myrna says:

    Your words, the images, feelings, the sun, the heat and yearning for a lover. What a combination of beauty you’ve created. Really enjoyed reading this.

  7. kolembo says:

    Haha…the sun should not be so bright…!
    Enjoyed!

  8. No rain for two weeks…such heat overloading the cortex …I like the garment over the earth ~

    Lovely share ~

  9. poemsofhateandhope says:

    This was a heady mix of heat and hangovers…. But I think I know this feeling…..laying in bed n the heat….bed sheets are like razors….if I spat would it rain- loved this line….it conjured up that dry mouthness…..feeling of sickness almost….the end for me was downbeat (which I like because I’m strange)….but had a feeling of resignation….of giving in…..strong stuff here for sure

  10. brian miller says:

    everything had become garments, removeable, interchangeable…..i like that…and the return to it in the end as well, it sets a feeling and tone under all the rest…would not mind being in the fire hydrant with those kids though…its hot here…

  11. David Ashton says:

    Nice one. Brings to mind a poem of Daito from the Green Koans:

    No umbrella, getting soaked,
    I’ll just use the rain as my raincoat.

  12. Claudia says:

    if i spat would it rain… the poem feels like a painting that has very clear zooms and then blurs again, melting with drugs and heat… a surreal world where someone tries to define the spot where he’s standing…good work

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