The World�s Edge and other observations

summer hands the reins of my life
back over to me again, apologetically,
driving into the sleeping town
where their eyes raise and lower
like dreaming dogs
or scattered showers,
the road was once blocked by fire
and rain, monstrous illusions quite real

before this:
white plastic bags with cardboard
interiors, sitting on the corner curb
holding photographs and albums,
galleries of years and emotions-
to be handled in the darkness of
the metal clank and driven to the
outskirts of the county, tossed
among other broken hearts

suffice to say: winter and snow
are synonymous.

then:
i retreated to find that
roaches keep certain hours,
empty morning matinee,
rotting fruit in garden shade,
the mermaid sings only old songs—
facts I’ve formed in trenches
for the inner lining of my skull,
until one day
a wind swept profound through
loose skin on old bearded trees,
who follow the ghosts of twilights
over cliffs and into canyons yawn,
and epiphany!
it is still ME in this dusty skin,
thus,
I believe in new suns and one old moon.

puppets dance as well as humans ought,
the imagination of the animator
is beautiful, if we remind ourselves
of such things.

The trouble with “over” always is:
a flashlight through my darkened window

otherwise:
- love like radio towers in lightning
storm and weather fierce night cold
blanket through airplane windows,
an inconstant flash this false security
the buzzing currents, static fire blue,
through the metallic atmosphere dense
corrugated shriek

but:
what we encountered in daydreams –
we found in adventures, and made
memories framed forever in smiles,
so, there can be no mourning.

suffice to say: hope.

here:
i have returned the dust of six months,
mended fragments of names and
faces lingering in trees, piñatas
and silly string, like lace
and white dresses, green and healthy
as prayers – the familiar lights
of intersections – green and red like
Christmas cities;
the directions are clear –
where to go from here,
where I’ve been before,
its all we have.

dancing gypsy aura of hugging
friends, saying perfect Yes
so the soul swells, - the
eyes swell too –
the heart collapses – newly
built bridges of steel and iron
flame proof,
protected and immense,
the shimmering wonderful suspension
of this moment, to step out of the fog
seeing horizon bright and nearby,
summoning strength and love or fear,
just barely daring to touch it.

now:
early morning mist
invigorates the colors of the world
seeps in through pores,
saying some secret unspeakable hush calm,
looking like the future might…

Reviews

[Pema Dorje]

your sense of eh is compelling... I can see that your flow of consciousness is wonder and awe at it's base ... that's a good place to 'see' from ... write on, G.

[Otto L.n. Pipgras]

so many great lines and metaphors, I wouldn't know where to begin with picking out select chunks as I'd end up pasting the majority of it in the review. It's a bit long but it carries itself well due to each stanzas detail. favorite stanza was :

"Puppets dance as well as humans ought,
the imagination of the animator
is beautiful, if we remind ourselves
of such things."

read it twice and am putting this one in the library to come back to....enjoyed. thanks for sharing.

[TL Boehm]

wowwee now I am really humbled that you stopped by to review something of mine.
this piece is deep - rich in metaphor - yet has that transparency about it - I can see the soul in the writing - accessible....
loved lines like 'roaches keep certain hours' and the juxtaposition of images like rotting fruit and then a few lines later a bridge in fog...life is like that
a wonderful write.

[revolution9]

This is an amazing poem. It flowed so well and the imagery made me feel like all of this was unfolding before my eyes.Some fo my favorite parts were ..."love like radio towers in lightning storm and weather fierce night cold blanket through airplane windows"This is a beautiful metaphor for love -- absoultely wonderful and honest to the bone."Puppets dance as well as humans ought, the imagination of the animator is beautiful, if we remind ourselves of such things." "If we remind ourselves is such things" -- this line shows you are a true observer of human nature and what an anti-social society we have become. Have we lost all of our imagination? It seems so when all we care about is the almighty dollar -- very powerful."I believe in new suns and one old moon"And finally the above line speaks volumes. Everyday is a new day -- but what of every night being a new night -- I loved this line.This poem was well-written and truely amazing.I will definently keep reading your work!--JQ--P.S. Thanks for the review of "My world will never be the same and you're to blame"

[Wendy G.]

this is beautiful, not just the imagery, but the emotional rollercoaster of the images. i like the collage of thought and view in this.

"white plastic bags with cardboard
interiors, sitting on the corner curb
holding photographs and albums,
galleries of years and emotions-
to be handled in the darkness of
the metal clank and driven to the
outskirts of the county, tossed
among other broken hearts "

just awesome, really

"epiphany: it is still me in this dusty skin,
thus,
I believe in new suns and one old moon."

i think this is where it turns, and that's what makes this piece so damned hopeful.

it's great, really.

[Vanessa Whiteley]

I thought at first this is too long. Having read it a few times now, I can't see a line I'd remove. You've probably got it just right. You set the mood perfectly with the opening stanza and there is some wonderful imagery throughout.

A wind swept profound through
loose skin on old bearded trees,
who follow the ghosts of twilights
over cliffs and into canyons yawn,

are wonderful lines. I will definitely be reading more of your work.

[Cameron Connolly]

beautiful. I loved it. amazing all around. wish i wrote it tell the truth. Cant wait to read more.

Cameron

[who?]

wow this poem is beautiful it has hands that will reach out and touch you sincerly i was really touched by this poem BRAVO

[Donald Meikle]

Wow pal y' put me through some old memories there.roaches keeping certain hours-Lipipee Street Honolulu.
And all those thousand hours of flight time through North Pacific storms.Old friends rebuilding ego.
BTW thanks for reviewing my stuff. (Dylan indeed!) great intro

[Angelheaded Hipster]

Just putting this in my faves.....By far....this is well written, brutal again, brutal, that is what you are. And don't ever shy away from yourself. I like what Ive read so far....you have a knack of putting calmness in the world.