showing my age.

 

 

I think you can believe as I do that the earth is, in fact, flat

without curvings, ridges or the briolette synthesis of esters

for perfume and distance. It was 1959 when I first declared

my  undying love for Arlene Dahl in "Journey to the Center of

The Earth" when the wind from the pollination of figs

swooshed her peasant skirt up and we could see the silence

of her thigh, realistic with emplosion and that itty-bitty

pigment when true desire meets the involucre of the little

boy in all of us. No other world existed but the world

that saturates substance however inexact or vulnerable

your captured.

 

Dad, with a closed fist, would pound on the side of the TV

and it would echo and boom thru the room vibrating my

little sister; it is so sweet to be imbued, permeated

with wood and the sparkle of cathode tube importunity.

The rabbit ears, the man on the moon. The horizontal hold

the fraud passed off as genuine

 

so fragrant as to be transparent.I tear up with Corvus

and the small constellations adjoining Virgo when I

think of how the appliance repair man hauled it away,

lifeless, that undeniable brown cage that tiny people

deprived of strength, lived in

suggested elaborate pretense in,

 

loved in.

Reviews

[Circe]

this hit me hard.... you make life rich... i just want to cry for the beauty, the nostalgia... always the impressions that stain life and make the moments so real.. they take you by the hand.. or they wrench out your heart..... i'm feeling so much through your words it's difficult to contain.... goodness, thank you.

[writing mojo]

wow I like how you screened your childhood
taken away in the mechanical omniscience of timing...
I have an alarming feeling that I wish I could be the astrology
in left over ash trays of thought you smoke my mind in the most inflamed
ways lamenting my pauses with the awe I can only roll through what I can contain, again amazing

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlande..]

Oh God, dana, the way you intimately described the deflowering of your innocence...I mean you had me hooked at "silence of her thigh"

and how you reflect on your father's sense of urgency to bring his family together

and how you tied it all together emotionally, intellectually...ahhhhh, with the raven in the stars..I don't care how bad this makes me realize how much I suck compared to you at writing; I'm never skipping another piece of your writing

[Tree]

The force of recollection is always potent in your work. And there is a wistfulness, emanating from your words that cannot be denied. The nostalgia infused within this poem, and that sad wonder between those lines will have me remembering this piece for a long, long time... Good work here, dana

DPaz

dana this is outstanding work...
adventurous, worldly, thoughtful, seasoned, beautiful words bring me into the story you are expressing. Thank you for your wisdom dear.

E.L.

[Emily B]

it's been ages since i met the word imbued used in such a charming way

I enjoy your world of words