poemimage

The visual & the poetic.

Tag: escape

The authorities & Mythical Zeus (a prose poem)

The authorities said we have your fingerprints.

Mythical Zeus said I am certain this is impossible.

The authorities said beyond any shadow of a doubt.

Mythical Zeus said I have no memory of being here.

The authorities said you have been here thousands of times.

Mythical Zeus, in flux like a wavery obsidian shadow, said I am certain this is impossible.

The authorities said we constantly retrieve your fingerprints, alongside other evidence.

Mythical Zeus said perhaps I know this location by another name.

The authorities said possibly you have forgotten, an easy mistake to make.

Mythical Zeus said why do you – how strange – you would speak to me of memory.

The authorities said possibly you have have been deceived.

Mythical Zeus said why do you – how strange – I am not aware of mistakes or deception.

The authorities said we can be of great assistance with this – with you – with clearing your name…

Mythical Zeus said I am on a search-party mission to rename & reactivate thought-forms previously declared abandoned & lost. And I am not lost.

The authorities, concurring, said we wish to save you from your illness.

Mythical Zeus said I am not aware of any illness.

The authorities, concurring, said please sign the form giving consent.

Mythical Zeus said what will be done based on my signature if I sign.

The authorities said whatever we deem consequently necessary to deactivate the current situation.

Mythical Zeus took a deep breath, diving like Johnny Weissmuller into the multidimensional ocean, on his search-party mission to realign & reassign thought-forms previously declared abandoned & lost. Alone, he did not feel abandoned.

The last line of the poem places the images in context. A figure in motion as if underwater in a multidimensional ocean. A figure suspended like an angel above a medieval landscape, swimming through the air.

This is the Scene

This is the scene

where I follow the animal

into the forest.

This could be a bird.

A Cubist experiments

with wind

and Morse Code.

GIF Experiments: 27 (Run For The Exit)

My (old) Photoshop 5 program became impossible to work with. Some issue with ‘scratch discs.’ So I worked on a 33′ X 5′ roll of Italian paper for a few weeks and developed some writing ideas.

Then I remembered my blog (!) and made this GIF circumventing the ‘scratch-disc’ issue with a simpler arrangement of frames.

If You Decide

a

We need to learn an almost extinct language I will study with you.

e

We need to live among the people whose language is almost lost I will join you and also learn traditional survival skills.

c

To leave me for the shaman I will drive a stake through his medicine box, realize my grave error instantly, and escape, although barely.

d

To beckon and summon, seducing me with whispers that reach into my blood, I will return.

b

I must stand trial for my crimes against love and magic, I will escape, again.

fadeout

If you decide to hypnotize me while I sleep I will seal my heart against your vibrations and embrace the crazed dream of modernity. Because I am a fool. Weary of surviving on roots. Even the root of you. Even the root of me.

fadeout

If you decide I must seal my heart against the sounds you once made I will throw the window open a final time, upon your murmur coursing & drenched in starlight, intersected by a highway carrying the disappeared.

fadeout

If you decide to remain quiet I will train my ear to hear the sunlight falling.

fadeout

If you decide it is my duty to dig out the wooden stake I will return in the dead of night speaking an extinct language.

fadeout

Photo credit: Renee Perle, a Romanian Jewish girl who moved to Paris, is famous as the first muse of the famous French photographer Jacques Henri Lartigue (1894-1986), who is considered one of the leading photographers of the 20th century.

http://www.romanianculture.org/personalities/Renee_Perle.htm

shadowssoftly 3violet detail 1

A Broken Ankle (and Oliver Cromwell)

1

At the nine and one-half week mark

Your foot is still swollen

23

Your ankle looks like a loaf of rye bread baked

On a winter night and placed inside a blanket

As winds howl through cracks in the walls.

4

Or something meaty and coarse

Illiterate peasants tear between their teeth

Marching beneath a mercenary banner

15

 Fighting a war for glory and power

Though not their own.

13

The instructions are:

Elevate, ice, and exercise,

Form the alphabet three times a day with your foot.

17

Do not dangle your foot for hours above any battle scenes

Celebrated in embroidered tapestries

Warming cold castle walls.

12

For the last month you have worn an air cast

Made of plastic and plastic fabric

Following six weeks of plaster and then fibreglass

Monstrosities.

1417

 You march beneath the banner of a cane. This is next.

137

 The electricity goes out. You push past a blond woman on a horse

Climbing the stairs. She’s dressed like a fish.

Or so it seems with glimmers of moonlight passing through cracks

In the roof.

1717

You rescue two children.

This is not possible you are on crutches.

2

 Oliver Cromwell’s army is marauding through the streets

Looking for Irish to enslave or decapitate.

16

You tear down a tapestry showing Puritans Arriving in America

And roll up the children.

You put a loaf of fresh bread between them

Dragging the tapestry to the corner of the Great Hall

Behind a counter with pastries, a cash register, and postcards.

1314

 You find your crutches.

Your air cast is light and removable

For a month and a half you wore what felt like anvils

And told yourself you weren’t going crazy.

This doesn’t really bother me you said.

1512

 You tell yourself you won’t be captured.

At the fracture clinic they said you would walk in

On September 8th with a cane and a limp.

16

Your foot fits in your unlaced walking shoe.

Oliver Cromwell is trying on wooden shoes.

Where did he get those?

He laughs a high-pitched laugh.

3

 His Puritan followers board a ship for the Caribbean

Leading captives bound neck to neck.

17

 You walk right through them and shudder with cold.

You limp into the sunshine

Stopping at your neighbourhood cafe.

121317