Friday, August 26, 2005

Spear Atmosphere

I dare to say (as the approaching comet
dares) that you have given
sound a spine, brought

me given me
into stitches of hair,
dust, wool. Clay is red

your tongue is red
clay in a river bed awake
and speak. Clouding

over, the black thread
lifts my eyelids,
pupils and Saturn

unlike any moon. We carve
ecstasy out of lime
seeds, small yellow

breath-puff, a crystal
city on your breastplate.
Begin again

as the rain comes. It’s perfection
and collapse, a spitting
wind in a slew

of lightning bolts mistaken
for flashbulbs. Pop. Smoke.

Blue spots with trails among
the planets.

((Another poem from the collaboration.))

2 comments:

Lorna Dee Cervantes said...

Cool!

What if it had no punctuation, no caps? Take advantage of all the linebreaks & layers, and ruleless abandon.

poetzie said...

Thanks, Lorna. I've revised it without punctuation-- works quite well. You're right about the ruleless abandon.