Crash
We're predictably slow on our movie-watching (what parents of 9 year olds aren't?). Last night we watched the oddly stirring and deeply "graceful" Crash. Character rants on about buses, and then is later seen riding a bus at the moment of his strange epiphany. It took me back to my early morning bus reveries and this poem written while riding on one.[east spilled]
coffee face on white shirt
dreaming into black roses &
we are traveling the smell
of ocean a signal beyond dream
beyond aftertaste
this quiet morning of prayer
pews blue with desire
we are seven and we are
in a babe’s liquid mind
turned by willing annunciation
which of us has wings: answer
reeling, how can I the heart to tell
you, this triple morn
staring down darkness
climbing miracle risen east
spilled among clouds
spilled among miles of longing
spilled in the torrent of western dreams.
I would a quiet heart, but mine isn’t —
lashing, weeping, ancient thunder
this mongrel day.
Labels: o my common one, one of these things first, silver morning
posted by murat11 at 8:40 AM
3 Comments:
I was writing a comment on this the other day and was interrupted by Visa card-carrying customers. A rarity in downtown City of Holy Faith in January.
Where the hell was I? Oh yes: Crash. Bennie and I saw it on the Big Screen. A dazzler for sure, all those revelations colliding with each other. I saw it again recently.
Your [east spilled] reminds me of my own journeys on the San Francisco MUNI. Sharing a "blue (actually beige) pew" with another soul pulled into my little soul's radius for just that morning. On some days, my heart was quiet. Other days the ruckus was deafening.
P.S. I keep forgetting to mention to you: We did rent Three Burials from Netflix. A morbidly funny time was had by all.
TLJ rocks!!!
San, I'm happy to add a little more leisure to my mornings by driving to school, but I've lost an ocean of free reading time I could count on daily. A whole other world and culture: fossil "fool" addicted as we Texans are, very few bus-ites are riding for anything other than necessity, so it was often a world to crack open your heart to the sweet sad and touching world around you. Such wonder in the blue pews.
Tommy Lee's definitely got morbidly funny down to an art form. I've still not kept my date with No Country for Old Men, but I'll be getting there. That's going to have to be a solo flight.
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