Soon comesthe implosionwhen distancefinally digests itselfsecreting apprehensionlike so much fertilizerand I will be leftlooking backtending the fragile thingthat once(or was it a dream)was a firecracker
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| Photo by Karin Gustafson |
Lucky (?) #13 in April, for Karin’s prompt to the Real Toads: REMAINS OF THIS MONTH
Editing to add this little haiku I scribbled last night and promptly forgot. You know, it helps with my goal for April!
wild, wild Friday nightnew battery in her book-lightfinds her own delight
There are some remains we should be careful to touch.. like something sore of explosive...
ReplyDeleteOh...geesh...this image gave me the creeps. You really brought a vivid story to it...great work, Marian!
ReplyDeleteyou germinated a stunning ekphrastic poem from that really creepy image
ReplyDeletemuch love...
This is just great, Marian. The ending and the lack of punctuation other than parentheticals so powerful. The actual image is by someone named bel-- something. Hedgewitch would know as she posted the true photo on her fb once. I just saw it at met-- thanks. K.
ReplyDeleteThe sense of something broken that suggests its wholeness almost more vividly than something whole could do--an ambiguity that drives perception, and a very sharp poem to frame it, Marian. That photo is terrifying..
ReplyDeleteI agree, this is an incredibly written ekphrastic poem.. kudos!!
ReplyDeleteLots of love,
Sanaa
Such an interesting and unnerving piece. You have taken the concrete to the level of the abstract in an altogether admirable way.
ReplyDeleteand I will be left looking back......... great job with a startling picture.
ReplyDeleteOh wow! "looking back, tending the fragile thing that once...was a firecracker." Right where I am at, my friend. So well expressed.
ReplyDeleteI am having a lot of trouble commenting on blogs. But I just wanted to say from your implosions to firecrackers to "tending the fragile thing"--that juxtaposition IS FANTASTIC
ReplyDelete-Amy
when distance finally digests itself...Wow! It is hard to take care of the pieces..There are times I wonder if I was ever whole.
ReplyDeleteSome remains shouldn't be unearthed... not if we aren't ready for the boom.
ReplyDeleteThe warning is indeed to be taken, your poem creates (to me) a person afraid of being broken and searching for an answer.
ReplyDeleteI love that last line -- it surprised me!
ReplyDeleteI'm adoring that little haiku! Are you spying on me?
ReplyDeletePerhaps it's inevitable?
ReplyDeleteInteresting how you converted what is generally regarded as explosive - firecracker - into implosive energy. A clever piece of writing.
ReplyDeleteThe self is burbling alembic, for sure, and vessel sometimes looks in hindisght like a toidy. That ribbing aside, you go right into what the heart does, turning experience into soul. Mythologizing the mess. Emerson hated what books had become. In the hand, he said, a book should be a ball of fire.
ReplyDeleteOooh...wow....this little piece of poetry packs a punch!
ReplyDelete