Friday, November 13, 2009

the crushing ubiquity of chainlink

maybe it was the stalking mystery
that ran the perfect sidewalk blind,
waiting to pounce from the pebbled curb

that forced the bark of health to wonder
whether claws could crack the code
and the scarlet purring of a cougar mind.

sure, there was mustard slathered rye
and the delivery of a crumbly toast
to dispel the cryptic myths of bread:
a carnage of sandwich in a deft parade,
that produced this lathering of frothy madness.

what was missed in the grim procession
was a reaper moving from black to red
through the harvest of suburban hedgerows:
a scythe of pink deliverance in curved disguise.

one build-up, one moment, one release,
in the technicolor pomp of circumstance,
to pierce the pump that pumps no more:

one long commuting train leads to return-
it's a lonely way to save a crumpled ticket,
to come once again upon the carnal thicket.

it was just a canine flashing for a pound,
a reet petite on the down low snapping ,
insanely unaware of the limit of the links:
one bubbly ocean cry for foamy limits
in the uncertain azure of your prison mind.

no wonder dogs play poker.

6 comments:

Francis Scudellari said...

I like the way you use color and sound in this piece. It creates some intriguing visuals. I feel like my senses are being forced to function in new ways, against type, and they're learning much from the experience.

Garth said...

Wonderful - I watched spring march through a city suburb.

Anonymous said...

Gerry,

I read this as in a trance. Man, your poetry is incredible!

It is an honour to be part of this project with all you talented poets. This feels like a creative vulcano.

Jenny said...

Gerry,

So great:

"whether claws could crack the code/and the scarlet purring of a cougar mind"

Especially when read aloud.

I really like the whole poem, so it is not easy to choose favorite lines.

I am thrilled to see how the poetry archive is growing and growing and the stunning quality of all poets' contributions. And this blog has only existed for five days!

Anders Enochsson said...

Your poem move between strange places, enlarging my mindset. Stunning work.

Akeith Walters said...

A fresh breath for the mind and heart. Well done, again, Gerry B. Well done, indeed.