collaboration with Manicmuze
in every turning of their face and body,
the angels have the east facing them - Swedenborg
Not being lost
is the death of nature,
painting rings around angels
thinking in circles,
and heresies murmured
to a congregation of curls.
Dancing for dimes,
a carriage stranded,
stagnant and abandoned;
spinning time perfect,
in arrangements and abyss,
time better left alone.
A flesh stone
worn smooth by missions of faith
unjudged and unappreciated,
even the bees
suspend their drudgery,
by the pale oblivion
of this buckled moon.
In the barren sky,
where I create I,
every night, each morning
beneath planets
seized in orbitrings,
like strands of pearl-pregnant ice,
midnight closes twice,
but makes no difference.
The absent elements
have been here all along:
the deferential crickets pause
and pack away their orchestras
on the stillborn banks
along a listless,
fishless lath canal.
Not lost, restless eyes
learn well their lies
and recognize;
every rotation stops
the way the last fruit falls
to the scorch
that stretches eastward,
to another waveless, waveless shore.
Comments
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a pleasure to read. it made me think of the way we humans often take for granted that we are part of the ecosystem. we too often imagine that we're something more than just another species on this living rock.
this also makes me miss doing collaborations. even if I were not satisfied with the end product, it was always a joy to work with someone else. you two did this well. -
A lot of different emotions in this. Cleverness and a fresh take here:
painting rings around angels
thinking in circles,
Wonderful imagery and sound in the entire stanza here:
A flesh stone
worn smooth by missions of faith
unjudged and unappreciated,
even the bees
suspend their drudgery,
by the pale oblivion
of this buckled moon.
A great end, leaving insight and taking the poem back to where it starts, by mirroring the eyes to the nature (this is also why I'd like to see "rotation" be where you broke the line):
every rotation stops
the way the last fruit falls
to the scorch
that stretches eastward,
to another waveless, waveless shore.
Thanks for the read.
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This is a plethora of imagery and the oceans are deep with meaning. I am wading in until I can breathe again. I must go along and dance for my dimes as time allows.
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This is really beautiful. Has an introspective feel to it that I really like. Also, no weird transition between voices, really really loved the pearl-pregnant ice. Awesome image...wish I'd thought of that.
Nice job, you two.
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So nice when two people can write something together and see no seam.
Lisa
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I'm thankful for internal heresies
don't want my restless eyes to recognize
learned lies forever
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very good
really deep
lots of emotion and imagery -
Outside of the quote at the beginning - which makes pefect sense of you think about it - I didn't get anything from this. - oce
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Church of the New Jerusalem, Heaven and Hell? I looked this up so of course now I understand the angels always face east--toward god. As far as the rest of it goes, I don't get it. All I keep thinking is you are somehow writing about masturbation and that is most likely just my dirty mind playing tricks on me. Then I was thinking maybe this line:
on the stillborn banks
along a listless,
fishless lath canal, was referring to the river Thames
Because these church members meet in London every other year? But then the word lath threw me off of that idea [a canal of thin wood?]. So I don't know, but I did love the sound of this:
Not lost, restless eyes
learn well their lies
and recognize;--Also the entire third stanza is beautiful. I tried, PC. -
well, this is what we did last night, eh ? :-)
you actually made some sense of it.
always my pleasure, always an adventure.
~ w -
one beautiful piece
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i loved it! the imagery is amazing! i also love the wording of all of it, but especially
"like strands of pearl-pregnant ice,
midnight closes twice,
but makes no difference."
this is easily one of the best poems i've read at allpoetry!
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Loved it
Wow, truely loved it, the use of words and imagery. Especially like 'thinking in circles' 'along a listless, fishless lath canal. Beautiful.
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