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Compilation #6

Tuesday, 8. February 2011 21:00

the enso

An office plant and a chair sit by window blinds

"Window Blinds" by marlowe

the poem

You see these leaves at dusk, kissed
by the departing sun, glittering like flakes
of gold dust. Lattices
of snowflakes lay like antique lace,
a white crochet scarf adorning your jacket.
The cold may encase
your bones like ribbons of linen
wrapping a mummy but the sun
is an electric blanket, a friend
as warm as the clay
coffee mug you cradle. The dog’s woolly coat
separates into columns like a coral reef,
your hand a starfish.
Fence posts are the discard spears
of our wars, recycled.
You see the downtown skyscrapers flicker
like candles on a birthday cake, and you wish
for the full moon, a whole
peppermint pattie. You know
pine cones, artichokes, lotus flowers, and humans unfold
to find their inner beauty, to find relief.
Meanwhile, inside, the window blinds slant
like the ridges of a steel washboard, and the chandelier
crystals sparkle like sequins. When you are still,
you can hear the groans and creaks
of your soul. Like an overripe fruit, we teeter
on a balance beam, swinging between growth and rot,
light and dark. Our paths may fork
but the tree, with its multitude of branches, creates
so many starts and ends, showing us how
to hold possibility. These gold coins
jangling in your purse, these suns you hide
from the world, are your talents.

Category:Animal, Human, Mineral, Plant | Comments Off | Autor:

Compilation #2

Tuesday, 31. August 2010 20:00

the enso

A crepe myrtle tree with pink blooms

"Pink Polka Dots" by marlowe

the compilation

We watched girls in white linen dresses tango in the twilight
while the ferns stood stiff as sentinels and each rose bud
opened to reveal a labyrinth. When we
constructed our truths as elaborately
as our lies, we found what we had been seeking.
Remember? You wrote: we are one.
The blinking Christmas bulbs teased us like
a lighthouse on the shore. A purring kitten,
a cooing dove. Yes, the white flash
of the mockingbird wings announced the illusion.
And the blinds waved in the wind, plastic tassels tinkling
like door chimes that tease us when we depart.
Counting cans of Campbell’s soup, you think of Warhol.
Boxes of Polaroids contain the overflow, the hallowed halls
of our memory, realities we since discarded.
We had planted yellow tulips at the mouth of the river:
a row of torches welcoming, warning. Their leaves
stretched like webbed fingers, like hydras, like tentacles.
Even the widow tree bent under the burden of our griefs.
No, we find what we are seeking by opening our hearts.
Three doves sit on a telephone wire against the turquoise sky
while a helicopter hovers, focused as a dragonfly.
You see the crepe myrtle with its polka dots of pink blooms
and the golden hues of a peach shine like the sunset
This green glass platter reflects a summer pool:
its ripples barely seen, its calm sheen too perfect.
And the swirling tea leaves in your dainty gold
cup? Caught in the tempest we delivered,
its fortune yet untold.

Category:Animal, Human, Mineral, Plant | Comments Off | Autor: