TinkerX

Creative flux for our heap of broken images.

New poem: Edge Of

Edge Of
 
 
Near dusk, the separate sea and sky
die. Blue-green-grey and violet-black
stand back-to-back and her blood
swirls in his hair, merged
in heavy, deep, same sleep.
 
So drab, this two-in-one. So flat.
 
No moon, no sun ring chords
from separate spheres. No tension
in the place between, no force
seen. We won’t hear steam
hiss from the space
where depths touch heights.
 
So bland, this cuddled mass.
So similar. So tight.
 
But lightning shows the edge again.
The off-shore storm that rips
and kills the blend. White heat
points, "There!" We see
wind pull clouds to death,
waves toss spray.
 
The blood-stamp, eye-print
memory of edge
will keep us
until day.

2 Comments so far

  1. Douglas Galbi July 25th, 2007 9:14 pm

    Edges, with human to cosmic scale of coupling. The first seems to me horizontal in object-type, the second vertical in encompassing scope. Interesting. I like it. Especially the tight, one-syllable words, with sharp consonant edges like “blood-stamp, eye-print”. How about dropping “memory” in the third-to-last line?

  2. Andy July 26th, 2007 5:24 pm

    Douglas: Thanks for the neat comment. I’m almost always amenable to edits that involve cutting without major loss. It’s a good suggestion, as “blood-stamp, eye-print” are meant to evoke the idea of memory. I’ll incorporate it into my next draft.

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