Metamorphosing To The Tune Of Reassembled Rapture~

~a reincarnation puzzle~

The dreamscape

fragrance, like lavender

sounds, violins weeping

man in a dusty suit

a green leaf

a tiny egg

his fingertip, a scar

scoops up a pearl shell

membrane dew on his tongue

sun drop

attaches

silk against his vocal chords

 

There are no days here

there just is

where flowers do not know they are not supposed to dance

and fill the meadow with rapturous  waltz

where the Blue Danube curls over her banks

to pleat her curves with cherry blossoms

deep curtsy in indigo

before an uprooting tree

his branches around her liquid waist

a wild crow playing his fiddle

to the purr of a transparent cat with a lace collar and a wicked grin

 

The man's suit turns from dust

to sensible cotton

his pupils from round, dilated darkness, slit into gold rapture

irises pigmented with evergreen scales

the cocoon in his throat a tickle

now and then

his fingers play the skin beneath his jaw

open a window in a hollow

inside, a cream silk in the shape of eternity

gently pulsing

in rhythm

with the cobalt carotid pushing his blood through

into possibilities

 

There are no nights here

just an ever fluid movement

across piano keys

deep heels in warm mud

girls with tilted eyes playing toss with a sphere

drops of ocean

pine needles in moss green

bioluminescent glitter in their pores

on a see saw made of light

up

down

tossing metaphors like candy

linear theology an inverted rhythm in their marrow

they draw formulae through the air squared with moon beams

powered to the infinite scale

ice cream pink

down their chin

for hummingbirds

honey bees

a kiss

 

The man walks the miles

that are not miles

but just are

a song in his throat

his throat a cocoon

inside the white silk a girl reassembling puzzle pieces

flexing her spine

her mind feeding his rapture

his rapture

her metamorphosis

 

The miracle is in the making

the man once made of dust has become shiny malleable liquid metal

the girl, once upon a time,  scattered pieces through countless bodies

is rediscovering her parts one by one

in a rib

in a smile

in a rose

in a flame. . . .

 

Can you guess what will happen when she is complete

can you guess what will happen when his rapture opens the cocoon . . . .

 

They don't ask

they were made faceted in other~wise

knowing

the answer

is the question

and the question

the song. . . .

 

 

copyright:2010vssmd/pa.inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

 

 

 

 

EXCERPT FROM

Reviews

[.]

"is rediscovering her parts one by one
in a rib
in a smile
in a rose
in a flame. . . ."
!oh my genius--i always snatch connections to you-
every time i read a piece of your work goddess...
(that spell-that spell-that voodoo of you sugar ! ;)

beautiful :)

[luciddreamer]

You always capture my attention in your writings....:)

Peace
Robin

[Sean M. Addams]

very cool piece ..love the imagery .. nice job on this

[Marie Harrison]

Fun! "On a see saw made of light
up
down
tossing metaphors like candy"
Love it! I want the dress with the cherry blossom pleats too!

[JulieNorell]

Beautiful! :)

[Cafe Reader]

Queen of the Surreal!

[Dani]

"drops of ocean" how ironic that image feels in my head. :P fascinating read, and wonderful write.

[Nobody.]

brilliant.....subtle....pure poetry. love it.
cheers!

[AlieahRose]

THIS IS SO NATURAL...
YOU COULD MAKE A BOOK...
ON EVERY SENTENCE...
YOU MORPH EVERYTHING...
THAT YOU WRITE...
THINGS NO ONE ELSE...
WOULD THINK OF...
AND YOU TURN THEM INTO...
THESE AMAZING PIECES...
THAT IS THE TYPE OF WRITTER...
I ASPIRE TO BE...

[The Raven King]

There are a lot of commas in the first stanza, a few too many, but if they were added to place pauses in the flow...they were well placed. Maybe line breaks would do instead. The introduction of modern techno scientific speech pulls me from the mythical magical flow of your lyrical stream at times, making me realize my own place in the world rather than being lost in the one you create. Words like bioluminescent, formulae, carotid pull me back into my own consciousness. While you pick words of exquisite phoenetic beauty that flow well within the poem. They are jagged rocks of self awareness poking out of the sweet lavender waters of beauty and otherworldliness you capture so well.

[Brad]

everything you write is like a dreamlike state, somethings scare the hell out of me, somethings elate me so much i blush reading them at work, others sadden me to the point of near tears.
your heart is like a recorder.