Glitter Station - an experiment of poetry or fiction

- 
Lost in Love like a glitter station,
Dark train come to take me away – 
a tunnel reached down to oblivion – 
along walking tracks today, yesterday
        searching for gold in the glitter
        searching for glitter in gold,
                                                        I hum,
mining the air for faces and gems
I see’r face smiling and leering some,
all talking, whining, grinning, lying
in the glow of a momentary bullet-train,
air sprinkled with magic in a mystical moment – 
I capture a (re)cord ‘fore it falls below.

The darkness of the tunnel, as it returned, along with silence,
loneliness, echoed, hello, hello, hello
I cry back hello!? and the echo laughs, bye girl.
Glitter turns to static and then turns to snow.
Is there anyone out there?
(I have a few questions before I can answer)

I’d remember if I could what we all saw just a minute ago,
I described it in my record as the pitch black floor
giving way to a pale brown lamplit dance hall;
no one who passed over it cares anymore
or saw what I saw. I dearly hung on,
and come to miss ghost trains whistling past in the dark
New language encircles the air again and again – 
there’s no south or north  – 
no direction or place for me  –  

**

Footprints left behind scrape along
as I search for a kernel of Reality;
I found a root at your toes 
wherever you go, to my eyes, it follows
I am a leaf, a leaf, a leaf,
pointless, rootless, branchless, guileless,
making my way down Autumn Street,
unable to put a stem to the floor
that seems to have disappeared under my feet – 
What was it you said? I remember the soft warm hold,
neither hot nor cold, or both, of the world
as it blanketed me in purpose and put its eyes all over what I had to give.
You said words come and go. We’ll be speaking in muffles like
wump wump woe – 
It is and it isn’t so
I recommend trying, or not, to know

Left to my devices I pray jealously 
I tell myself you touch Reality (which I can’t)
I blame myself for the way that I speak (I am)
I bet your memory negates my every move
I wish that I could take root anywhere – 
To remain in the air is to be born in the past

They used to say “nothing good can last”
We say we now not you and I
try as your mind’s eye might to divide us 
that wouldn’t be in truth with reality

**
Devotion, devotion
Absalom, absalom,
Bells toll, root tapped in
to the dust and the soil

I hold in my palm rare earth crystals
scrying for meaning in your fractured visions
making my way downtown, hum down
looking out the window pain occasion
ally lost in love of distant stations
lost in HQ with nothing to do
redundant and cloned I was made for you – 
Music comes on from within my memory – 
My enemy is using my poetry for purpose – 
echoes softly around as the air glows brown again
I turn around and cry, “is there anyone there?
I’m Lost in Love in Lightless Reality – 
can anyone hear me?”

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Ledge

-
THE LEDGE Part 1 EXT. CHRISTMAS MARKET A man stands alone in a noisy crowd, his head raised slightly above those around him. He stares flatly ahead, his mouth closed and straight. The wide crowd around him are babbling but he cannot discern any conversation as they cut across each other in a web of noise. The crowd falls out of focus. The ocean of noise gradually becomes muted and his own voice comes forward in clarity. MAN It has been this way for years. I cannot solve my biggest problem. The world doesn't react to my touch. It is as if I am behind the glass. I don't touch anyone and nobody touches me. What happens to me doesn't depend on me. I'm at the mercy of the hand. It is only by its whim that I come into the world to touch something, until just as suddenly it pulls me back, even in the middle of a breath. In my world there may be silence for twenty years and a waterfall for five minutes. In that five minutes a life screams, being born. But then ...
Read more

ramble (Diane)

-
  His every thought grounds me The non-participator The one part of nothing but who sees all In the past, its illuminator His whole being devoted to his task That no one else does The lone investigator of a world That without his probe would collapse But someone will need it Like I need his discipline To reign me in For I'm a silly actor of the time Like all others I interact with are, absent morality Playing with their power Coming up to breathe air when they can; He always is Born into such place as he was meant to be in Where the air ever circulates But there's no one else there. I fling far high and low, Reading angel signs in numbers When I'm alone, too, Forget him, then his every thought I know will correct me Like a cane or a word A gaze so uncompromising It never loses itself And never indulges another For it has to be Someone has to be Or else the realm would collapse A door behind us would close And we would be blind And cut off f...
Read more

Clown King and Glum Girl

-
The clown king was coming in hot, all bedecked with props, but nobody seemed to care. He just wanted a coffee. His eye paused on a glum girl who was dark  and light but had no life - much as had passed through her took it all. She sat alone in the corner nearly mumbling her thoughts, outside the stream of sex, for it is pay to play and she was broke. She needs me, he thought. He had no idea of her long shame, nor how one thing after another had gone awry this morning before she got to the cafe and sat down in her usual seat via a stubborn and self-imposed rhythm. Just the sight of her lost in her cloud of dark thoughts, talking to no one, was very comical in his state. But also very sad, as he learned that her visage was gelling into that of a regular, an eccentric sitting daily in a corner scribbling away something barely legible except to her like her life depended on it (it did). He sympathized. He could be a sad clown. He had just been a sad clown this morning, but now he was ...
Read more