poem: the down and simple
fashion me your shining blade:kiss-off, kiss and tell,
kismet down
your shining alleys,
integers of the eternal
bloom, faces
of the tumbling mannequins,
pleasure in the fields,
gathering the custom wires,
the nethering gates,
the jasmine confederacies,
the down and simple
fragrance that grabs you
by the neck, whispers
now,
excites pandemonium
in even the bleakest times:
ask at the quarry,
steal the watchman's attention,
gamble with the takings:
i confess the idea not mine,
in the farthest seams the scarves
are with me, shining
the foolish sensibilities,
the sideways costume changes,
the withering glances,
confined in your seeming
the lord god's bellows
desires that cave the senses,
shadows that know the certainty
of your every move.
bless us, quiet Mara,
still the quandaries,
exact in due time,
never leave me to
the facts that cherish
you home.
Labels: casting
posted by murat11 at 11:47 PM
8 Comments:
we can't escape our fate, I wonder? Such a visual of the tumbling mannequin faces, jasmine exciting pandemonium (love that word...)
Mara - death? Beauty? I love never being left to the facts...they just get in the way of poetry. Someone at AllPoetry wrote a poem from a scrap of paper that was in her shopping cart at the grocery store. It contained just three words...People who sit. Joni says so much more.
♥
loved the kiss off/ kiss and tell/kismet, the tumbling/gathering/nethering,
all the desires that cave the senses
maybe most of all
all the facts that cherish
you home
not to mention
that beautiful picture
beautiful music
that frames it all
Dee: Mara: didn't quite want to go full-blown Marian on the poem, but some feminine Other was calling out. I love your "I love never being left to the facts." You nail poetry with that very statement (at least my poetics): poetry starts when we leave the facts behind . . .
Anno: Love your harvesting of the poem. Always.
I read this yesterday and got too many goose bumps to comment. Read it again today, and it still gives me shivers. I like "the down and simple fragrance that grabs you by the neck," and "the sideways costume changes." I was wondering if you were putting on a passion play or a school drama, but then there were the religious connotations. So perhaps a mystery play in the market square of a village lost in time warps.
Teresa: What a wonderful tesserine translation. I'll definitely want you on the job when I have the Collected Works translated into Icelandic.
I'm not sure what spurred this one on: my dismay, I think, with the pathetic film version of The Time Traveler's Wife, for one: I felt a need to clear out the vapidity on display, something just needed to burst through: the kiss me chorus just started running in my head, and then I sat down to write.
I'm now reading TTTW, and enjoying it, quite charmed by it, in fact. The film adaptation completely loses the complexity, and more importantly, the narrative voices are also lost.
Glad for the shivers . . .
The scarves shining sensibilites reminded me of ME. I have a bunch of sparkly scarves to offload. ;)
DM: Of course the scarves reminded you of you: they ARE you. :-D
Good to hear from you.
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