Sunday, November 22, 2009

a hair is such a simple thing

then I noticed that one of your rebellious golden strands
had flown awry from a crucible winged with the wilted brass of quills,

had pierced the imagined golden fabric of my pompous fleece
with a sinuous mythology that was tenacious
and prompted, to a ticket holder entranced by teal,
an ancient head of expertly burnished copper-

then that almost bronzed and autumn needle
suddenly, in refracted sunlight, opened

into a kaleidoscope irresistibly imagined and,

serendipitously shadowless,

waltzed so dreamily into such a blond captivation

that I am captured to this eternal yellow day
by a flickering prism of luminous mineral glass:

periwinkle, burnt sienna, forest green-

when I am feeling confessional, especially,

I am still confused by the red and violets

and

I embrace, as always, periwinkle,
but not so much the continuous bland reflections
of that new and awkward chrome-

I have heard that, occasionally,
for the want of a better watch,
time fritters away in a perfect rhapsody:

I heard also, reluctantly,
that there are things,
especially blasphemous,

things that are mortal
mostly to the young.

4 comments:

Jenny said...

Gerry,

Interesting, all the luminous shades and metals and the "kaleidoscope" made my eyes almost literally sting a little. Really good poem.

Gerry Boyd said...

gee jenny, first I am wreaking havoc on your migraine; now I am making your eyes sting. LOL. I think I'll take a short break from posting so you can recover. kidding, of course. regards, gerry

Francis Scudellari said...

I find new and interesting things in this with each repeated reading. Maybe because of where I'm at mentally, a mixing of coming of age and the inevitable changing of seasons. Fallen hairs and leaves, with their sprays of color. Very lyrical.

Gerry Boyd said...

thx, francis. i'm glad it resonated with you.