I’m going out with the storm cloud.
I’m leaving now, staunched in gauze,
clotted with vapor and rain.
I cruise the chewed edge of the pothole
then drop from the foot of the wren.
There is no stay. What does it matter?
What on earth doesn’t end up in tatters?
I’m going to fall hard and get up again.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
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7 comments:
Beautiful Sarah. I especially like the "foot of the wren." and "There is no stay." Falling therapy. Years ago, in the book store I managed, I would fall over cardboard paperback book displays to break the "retail" tension. Ala Chevy Chase. I noticed there was something like a release when I did it. Things are falling apart here too. The "Big E", entropy, is constantly at work here in the trucking hub of the country.
I like all of it. Has this been published yet? Soon, I hope. I was especially grabbed by "staunched."
I like Ron Hardy's comment too. It could be its own poem if lined differently, starting with:
I fall over cardboard paperback book displays
to break the retail tension....
Thanks guys.
Kass, Ron should indeed think about making his proclivity to fall into a poem.
Your followers are often a delight. This blog is like a nicely seasoned meal, it delights in layers.
The staunched gaze and vapor, reminds me of a term that I recently heard - Dracula Sneeze. It referes to sneezing in your forearm. The act of doing so makes the sneezer resemble a thirsty count.
The Dracula Sneeze.
That's hilarious.
As a public school teacher, I've had to learn the Dracula Sneeze, which is less germy than the hand sneeze I was raised on, they tell me.
I like this poem and it's softly bumptious spirit.
Really like this. (I read it a bit ago - why on earth didn't I comment then?)
The end reminded me a bit of Plath's "Metaphors".
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