Veritas/susanna, may 17

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'Veritas'


I knocked on her door, left orangeblossoms
on the varnished floor. I could see my reflection,
all flustered-eyed and mussed-up bed hair.

But that's irrelevant, a petri-dish of unreturned calls:
somnambulance. So, wish for ocean and spirals in your sleep;
that's where I've always been. It's my stream of condolences
given form: winged bravado, machismo flatly run over.

Why do birds sing when I'm continuously quiet? To blast them
out of my sight: I'm sorely tempted some days. Some days.
Of maroon and burgundy, of plastic wheels on a Tonka truck,
squeaky-rusted from the sandpit it's always resided in.

This youthful lozenge I spat out years ago.
This toast I buttered and threw
on that same floor.

I wish for hollandaise and bechamel sauce. No mint. A touch
of tarragon and music from Vienna, pure and forlorn. Somehow,
these wishes become three kisses I've yearned for.
Eternally.

Windswept caves with anemones at its gates. Flax
and Pohutukawa lining the edges. That was Christmas
all those months ago.

There, I spoke of roots and waves returning, of sunsets
rainbow-runed and benevolently stained. Here, it's rain
and endless rain, polished stones in a crystal bowl, shivering.
Today is a muted aria cut short, left reeling.

What fish in this world could overcome my temptation to join
sea and sky together, to obliterate the lines of earth between?
What world of lips is worth all of this?
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'susanna, may 17'


susanna, she's always been a sleepy type; been one of those
daisy-chain chainers, in love with a tenth of the world, and all
that it could possibly mean.

she says it's nothing to do with god or man or tree, or even spirits,
that it's all about how far it takes to go on that journey: between two
animate things, between cell and molecule and infinite atomic
relationships.

you see, i disagree with her purely because i have to,
the reason being that it's all about being; being both satin
and cadaverous wool, being both north and south
magnetic irregularities.

yes, this planet will spin! yes, there's movement even
in loneliness. yes, and one other yes! never constitutes
a sin.

i get tired of exclamation marks.
so does susanna, in her flightless yet bold
imaginings.

Reviews

[Touché Armada]

"of plastic wheels on a Tonka truck"

Isnt there some poetical put together called something that sounds like tonka? It's kind of small like a haiku? Oh yes it a tanka, anyway the tone of that first one of yours (your voice forfeited) makes me read over a few carefully placed words through this Jase missing the words altogether for other verbs.. And so the truck became a childs embarrassing miss pronounced word only in this piece it shouldn't make anyone cringe. And doesn't the toast almost always land buttered side down? Sure it does because crumbs would be too easy to clean up. Anyway I never really know what to say so before its utter nonsense I'll just say in all its turmoil this is unmistakably your voice (without listening) Always that happy sad artist. Love your work.

[J.P. Bristow]

Like your title....do you live at the bottom of a well and write with virtual elusiveness. So amazing I have missed reading you.

[Snuggles McClintock]

veritas---i am not a fan of questions in poetry, rhetorical or other. I loved your phrase of a "petri-dish of unreturned calls." This piece is very strong, and I wished the last few lines were stronger by removing the question element and making statements. I.E:

What fish in this world could overcome my temptation to join
sea and sky together, to obliterate the lines of earth between?
What world of lips is worth all of this?

could be

No fish in this world could overcome my temptation to join
sea and sky together, to obliterate the lines of earth between.
No world of lips is worth all of this.

Susanna loved this one. it evokes strong sentiment and reminds me of the "Crazy Jane" series.

[LJW]

Veritas:

I abhor recorded poetry. But yours is the first I have listened to that I liked. You know how to read and not sound like a droning detached narrator. Your accent added a sense of intrigue(?)

Your story weaved in and out, past and present, literal and fantastical.

Very unique writing.

[Lilith des Cavernes]

All I can say is WOW! Stunning work!

[Emily B]

I needed your words today. There is something in them that murmurs of ocean tides and blue skies flowing. And it is always a pleasure to lose myself in your voice. Even when I don't listen to the evoca, I still hear your voice mesmerizing with wonderful words.

[Mark]

I am most intrigued by you ability to post an audio clip with your poem, on that same page. I have not seen anything like it previously, althoug I have met another author, who publishes entiurely in the aural medium, V. Lucien Maier--you may wish to check him out.
I would be most grateful to learn how to do this, if it is merely some widgit I can upload, or what? There was one song, two or three months ago, "The Cruise Control Blues", that I really wanted more heard than read, but hadn't the technoes to do it, and everyone who DID, hadn't the ability to explain it to an old, compu-illiterate like me.
If you can and will help me, I will PM you my email--I know you're sixteen hours ahead of me, so we won't be able to do it in real time, but I am looking forward to the challenge on whatever terms.

[W.k.kortas]

I think both of these are quality pieces--the imagery in each piece is inventive and highly visual. I'm more impressed--or, perhaps more accurately, more affected--by the latter piece; it's more lyrical, more metered than the former, which I think is a better fit, plus I find the use of consonance and repetition in the "susanna" poem very effective. Neither piece requires an apology--far from it--but I find the second piece much more a cut above the norm.