Esoterica

She played a black-keyed Yamaha,
Sumptuous strain; 
Slow moaning cables
Cutting and scoring, like slow razored burns
Pasting holes in the uncompensated dream
Of child:

Sometimes I could walk, 
Sometimes try, 
Sometimes I could propagate 
Though I couldn’t forget, 
Wouldn’t...

Trouble is for the getting,
Always just a fleeting wish, 
A roam in militant coil
Music, 
Madness; her broke up jean-blue language,
Nirvana

Everything, everyone,
A map-less mind and cave filled of ancient figurines,
Ballerina Baba Odessa

When the fields grow in 
Rain and hip, 
Her meat, beasty hands 
Crawling
In the side of our ignorance
Iced and cruel 
Resultant, 
Frequented by the spirits of change.
Then we will know

I was pound and stolen,
A rattling belt,
Snake-shelled organ
Seeped of croon,
Injecting wiles of curculio,
Stampeding over a tiny
Landscape;

Everything born withering

And we gave these all a mighty timber
Long, spieled lips of red horror
Wicked cricks of limb,
Who knew they were metaphors?

Mammals for our Bagua 
The empty range
And so, so much staked
On the songs she swayed. Pandora in cruel mandolin-
Punctured paint and painting,

The mind 
A fire, 
Her viscous Yamaha
Smiling over every loss.

Reviews

[luna rose]

I dig this way too hard. Kudos on your ability to use words artfully, abstractly, and thoughtfully. This is really kick a*s poetry. I'd totally attempt to analyze each stanza, but that is intellectual petulance, so I WON'T.

However, as a whole, I think that the vibe of the female figure which the poem addresses is very enigmatic-- hence the enigmatic arrangement of words. Way cool.

My favorite line:
"Wicked cricks of limbs/Who knew they were metaphors?"

GAH.

Awesome job. You have talent.

[Perdition]

"I dig this way too hard"..one of the coolest openings I think I've ever read in a review. Makes me want to throw on a rain jacket, James Dean style and walk the streets of the early 1950's Kodachrome washed in your words and wafting poetry with smoke into the "village" lounge of the coming jazz of Beat styles. Thanks Luna! I may have to turn Black and White before this week is through….very inspiring~

[luna rose]

HAHA. That is a whopping perfect vision of life. Sounds delicious. I'd love to wash someone else in my words! Beatnik jazz? R U KIDDING.

Oh, the poison of nostalgia.

Keep up the good work! :)

[Perdition]

WIll do…please do same as I have just read "Nausea" and find myself staggered. A little warning next time might be nice. Or you could just throw me off the cliff as you just did…unbelievably talented. Thanks for the early morning slap as the sun has yet to rise over these parts of the Eastern American dream. In Tangier I can see that the poetry has already risen and is burning the hand of landscape quite readily.