Category Archives: Pomegranates

Happiness with you was a cry of despair

A new pomegranate via Anaïs :

Panic within

the full poetic story starting August 1 on the 3:15 Experiment page. Each year since 1999,  during the month of August, a handful of poets and apprentices set their alarms for 3:15 am and attempt to write poetry in a half-awake, half-asleep state … They are encouraged to let the poems “settle” in their notebooks and only edit them later in order to gain as much awareness of differences from their usual writings, learn their new voices…

My 3:15 am voice came from a raw, more emotional place than ever. I had to try so hard to keep my pen from falling down and my brain from returning to the heaviness of sleep and dreams that all I could capture was the “now”, the raw moment …there is no longer a  previously debated with myself concept, message or an intent, a moral to my writing.

Because in August  I chose to mold the way I felt, the way I acted, what I have done and what I had left undone around that “you”  one can read all nine poems as chapters in a story. I did not intend to write ” a story” – at first there where these short, post-it type notes I was scribbling in a dreamy state of mind. But as this hot summer came to an end I had to cross beyond a finish line….

One line only “my man with his cubicled heart” was edited with the clear intent to stress a connection between the earliest poems and the last three (21,28,31) and the title – my story – was added later. All other editing focused on language and language effects only.

 

 

cubicled (August 2)

( …in a cubicled land with my man.

My man with his cubicled heart)

You and I were living on the brink to illusion.

Else, all was shadow.

Farewell(s)

Seguì siendo y seguiendo (1)
The friend the lover’s portrait,
of whom his friend his lover was fondest, (2)

Mon coeur,
comme de la poussière,
se soulevait derrière vos pas. (3)

The darkness smelled of rain of damp grass
and leaves the gray light
drizzling like rain the honeysuckle coming up
in damp waves, (4)

Note
(1) Pablo Neruda – Adioses
(2) Walt Whitman – Recorders Ages Hence
(3)  Gustave Flaubert – L’Education sentimentale
(4) William Faulkner – The sound and the fury / Quentin’s story

Innocent

 You were caramel cloud

before   they laid you under the ground.

Wedding songs pass over the virgin grave.

                   Fireworks blast.

Your body in pieces  innocent.

Somebody’s young daughter, you were

a girl in the market in a city at war.

somebody’s young sister, you were

a girl in a city at war in the market.

Just lost you were

                                    Innocent.

How many of those who

 you once knew,

             innocent

blown-up by the embrace of a hate hug

before your body could no longer contain

their deeds, germinating anger seeds?

Your rage blasting body is stopped

 before             you can enter the market

But, there is no turning point for you.

Clung to your sister     innocent.

Two  bodies crumbled in pieces.

Note :  the poem (first edit) was  posted here. 

The Imperfect-Haiku (2)

 

Cloak’d by the silver linden

scent I’m gaping memories

of thee. Indulging.

                        Me.