Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Reflections of White

I thought of you today.
It wasn't the bush monster
guarding churchill
and our lives
wide-open eyes
watching every step
and breath
those were gone
they may have left with you
and the spear he held
towering over us
a medium for our breaths
swirling in the light
that was gone too.
It was underneath our tree
the memory leaped from beneath the leaves
and nearly knocked me over

I stood and saw the smoke curling,
billowing out from under the green-golden pages
strewn across the ground,
like a lemon-lime-quilted-patchwork
smothering the smoldering cigarette
yet giving it enough air
and cover from the water
that seeped through the deciduous canopy of light
down through rising bending trails,
like we were sending smoke signals
and maybe we were
it was a magical moment of incomplete combustion
we stood around the hidden fire
as if to keep warm
to stay dry
we were cold
and the water ran down us like sweat
we didn't acknowledge it
we stood in awe
the smoke swirling around us
and we wondered how,
but we knew what it meant.


j said...

There is an easiness about this poem (not easyness) that hasn't appeared before -- a languid feeling of time stopping, of constraint, of the moment. There are no forced images, no forced language. The easy flow seems to reflect the experience that was not forced to completion. You've married words to experience.

Anonymous said...

This poem seemed to come from an expirence. The people in it seemed to be wanting freedom, but when they found it, they could do nothing but stare at it. They seemed to remeber all the times they had, never to return to them.
I agree with "j" there is an easiness and a flow to this poem. It seems to just lead from one thing to the next very easily.