Wednesday, January 13, 2010

the pulchritudinous turpitude of medusa in the tub

i. to peek upon the washing is its own secret rite

the first bath of an oddly promising spring
easily births its own peppery cascading joy-
what might have speckled in the constant winter
rushes into the copper stream and, lonely, drifts away:

the pesky mites that might have ravaged bloody roses
clamor onto crafty rafts of golden straw and, clutching, float away-
they will not burrow in the clay-skinned perfection of ageless models,
they only want to, quietly, stroke themselves and drift away.

ii. windows are made of abysmally slow liquid

reflections of a dead branch grasping,
held by green hands that will not let it drop:

these trees inside the water
that hints of other currents.

in the dry season the rooks come out to play-
it is not the dry season now:
the release of pent-up yellow on the weedy hill
has its own inner sense of play.

a shadowy plumb of straightened lines,
in the sinking house of stark soffits:.

skinned knees on cracked concrete are a plum reward.

iii. it's hard to deny the cyclical

there is no mortared vault of berries yet,
inscribed in autumn with the thumbing of beads
or the angled facts of a hooded ghost:
the jeweled sconce of red and blue and green
plastered in a room that has drifted obscene.

through the years no angle stays true:
the pedestal font begs for the dirt of your ablutions
and the adulation only, if at all, reflects back at you.

there may be a green salad at the picnic next door.


Anonymous said...

Hi Gerry,

"windows are made of abysmally slow liquid" I agree!

Thanks for this delightful and intense poem. It carried me away from the -10 celcius and snow outside.

gerry boyd said...

PO: I do what I can. Negative 10, eh? That's about Positive 14 for us F-heads, no? Cheers, Gerry

Akeith Walters said...


You really have put the "music" into this one. Very nice read. I love the "voice" in your style of writing.

Francis Scudellari said...

This is a piece teeming with life. Like PO it turned my winter thoughts to spring. And you always come up with an amazing title.

Jenny said...

"these trees inside the water"

"the jeweled sconce of red and blue and green/plastered in a room that has drifted obscene"

Lines (among many) that are both beautifully expressive and thought provoking. I often think of your poems as racy, warm, lush, twinkling.

Garth said...

Angular, and very beautiful - a view from behind the slow flowing pane.

Ande said...

beautifully written, with the curves and shapes in it.

Anonymous said...

strange and a solid poem at the same time. i once had a woman in the bath frequently. then she moved on to another one. oh well, this man is going strong.

Anonymous said...

Wow, you are good indeed, damn.