The world is brittle, and incapable of turning inside out. The world is anxious, and who knows if the stars believe in ghosts? The world is dusk, soiled collars, it is in the turn of a leaf. I write about robots, and railroad tracks, flowers, a list of poems so scrambled and disjointed and unlikely to be anything but scrambled and disjointed. I write that astronauts and apple blossoms have the same haircuts, even as the little yellow bird in the evergreen sings like the diameter of the moon. I write for habit’s sake, to fend off the April morning, to no avail keeping a firm arm span from the late summer night. I tend to a fiery garden, and measure its wingspan. I write the barriers are breached, the temples quacked, the first of the first snow breaks apart the air, and nibbles on bright darkness. The world is strident, and misadventure. The approximation of untruth. And yet I write of poems, how they dig in the dirt and find comets that have yet to hit the earth. That God is a few lines of chalk on the cement, and everything else.
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I don’t know why, but I associate the usage of those hyper-verses with courage. I couldn’t write them, or, were I to do so, I’m sure I could never pull them off. They require a steady balance and, I suppose, almost some degree of poetic panache.
You did really well, Bob. You have some delicious geometry in this; it’s undeniable.
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Thanks João-Maria, coming from you that means a lot. I’m very glad you liked it.
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“The world is dusk, soiled collars, it is in the turn of a leaf.” – oh yes, absolutely yes. A wonderful piece through and through.
D
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Thank you Devon. Much appreciated. Glad you liked it.
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Wonderful job. Very much worth waiting for.
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Thank you.
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“I write that astronauts and apple blossoms have the same haircuts”
This and the very first line I really adore (I would quote but I’m re-reading this on mobile and it is such a pain! It’s very clunky!)
Your use of “haircuts” is brilliant and, maybe without intention, gives me an intuition of your use of it.
A strange awkward unity of sorts(?)! Unity is a lame word, but you get it.
There something very endearing about it too – I imagine the charm of seeing a child or an adult with an awkward haircut. The terms invites me to appreciate the idiosyncratic nature of everything.
Maybe this is just a “me” thing…. anyway, can’t wait for more! I’ll be wandering about I promise !
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Thanks Warren. I appreciate you reading of my poem. And I’m glad you brought up unity, I think that is apt. Endearing is apt too. Again I’m very glad that you were able to pick up on this. I will say my use of “haircuts” was at first inspired by the Walt Whitman line, “the beautiful uncut hair of graves.” From his poem Song of Myself. Thanks again for taking the time to read my poems. It means a lot to me.
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