a soft accumulation
of stars
the obsolete sky
abundant
spitting colour
it's an odd scar
the years end
scissors snip the stitches
not knowing
how it will heal
a half smile on my skin
a rubicon
I'm unmoved
all that seems different
is the sky
trying to find it's voice
it's tongue made of Jupiter
lips poised
clinging
to an imagined shape
as each word arises
it pops
and fizzles
stuttering into a shower of sparks
a bark
of frustration
a small
pear shaped puddle
beneath the canopy
of the station entrance
the warm
orange glow of a street lamp
reflected
a flame without a candle
amongst the yellow grid
of a parking space
and suddenly i'm
thinking about Bukowski
specifically his bare feet
his one pair of shoes
his floppy laces
have I ever seen
the Edge of myself?
*last line ripped straight outta "see here, you" by charles bukowski - his line goes "you have never seen the Edge of yourself"
8 comments:
As I read I could hear the gentle timbre of your voice in every line. I felt as if I was there, taking in your surroundings with you.
Favourite line: it's tongue made of Jupiter.
love the tongue made of jupiter and of course your pointing to bukowski - he's one of the poets i can feel most..and now i'm wondering if i have ever seen my own edge.. hope you had a good start into 2012 cat
nice was reading buk last night before bed...have we found the end of ourselves...not yet but still searching...smiles....the tongue made of jupiter is a great line! happy new year
So many gorgeous fluid images, the obsolete sky, the uncertain scar and pear-shaped puddle, and the progression from stark contrasts in colder colours toward warmth! I was a bit lost about how the tongue is made of Jupiter, which I associate with a planet of war in myth or with dire cold and multiple moons. I'm unfamiliar with the Bukowski reference, but the poem carried me through nonetheless.
thank you all for your kind and thoughtful comments. Kathy the Jupiter reference was a mostly literal one as it was clearly visible in the sky behind the fireworks as I was watching them and I had this thought in my head of the sky as a mouth and the fireworks being some sign of it's sound, it's stifled voice.
I don't know how it's possible to 'see' the edge of one's self - just be it, or rather be on the edge of being. For this reader there's enough edginess in your poem to survive nicely without Bukowski's invocation. Have a beautiful and poetry filled 2012!
Ah - beautiful images - so much in so few words :)
Hey, Cat, this is cat :) stumbled onto your marvelous blog via Claudia :) Love every word as you speak directly to my soul ....you gifted port you ... will follow you ... inviting you to do the same, if you like. Love, cat. http://catsruledogsdroole.blogspot.com/
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