the persistence of surrealism
for salvador dalí
the sea drowns in ink.
hornets sting threaded lips,
swelling,
i have no sexual recourse,
i cannot reach out to touch with translucent fingers
yet-- feel, i can feel,
snow burns like ash through canvas
and scorches my breasts,
warm like bread.
i pick up my violin and it stretches like cheese
melting into richard wagner, soft,
mournful
and you are gone.
Author notes
references to dalí's works, and his choice of dying music.
A contest entry
- Dream Brother (Contest) by just mercedes.
2000 points, ended March 2, 2009, 11 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
rip it
Comments
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This is stunning. It's an eclectic verse - dynamic, intricate and sharp. Very well done. x
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In the first passages there are so many sensations and sparkling images it is more like like Jackson Pollock than Dali! And then the wonderful stanza:
"i pick up my violin and it stretches like cheese
melting into richard wagner, soft,
mournful"...makes me float like clouds over Dali's dessert Spanish plains...
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Thank you for this entry in the contest. Your words raise images like his, grotesque yet built from the world, containing sorrow in celebration. I liked in particular 'snow burns like ash through canvas' and the images of violin/cheese/Wagner through melting, which is wonderful.
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This is just a magic turned into the poetic words..the impact is wonderful..there is a rythem of the sentiments behind the words..love the presentation..well done..
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