Relativity at Injasuti
There,
I, corvine clutcher,
pluck at bits
of reflected sunlight;
grapple rainbow shards
that glitter and twist,
beckon and change;
always over…
there!
Here,
streams pour ceaselessly
and the blue skies extend
and the mountains continue
and night is simple,
here.
Dawn’s golden tongue licks over pearly teeth
to melt the half-sucked peppermint
in God’s blue and awesome jaw,
and we are small,
the mountains and I.
And the high orbs lock there, and linger
and challenge for the sky,
for an instant eternal,
but we are hurled on regardless,
the mountains and I.
Tia Azulay 2/3Aug88–09Jan07
Copyright © 1988, 2007 Tia Azulay
Tia,
I don’t know what a corvine clutcher is, but I love the third stanza.
Dawn’s golden tongue licks over pearly teeth
to melt the half-sucked peppermint
in God’s blue and awesome jaw,
…ouch
That bad, huh? Say more, please?
how about a coffee cup or a wall or a person with black hair or a something or anything substantial to give this poem meaning. maybe its me, but i like a bit of meat in a poem, for it to be about something, other than ideas and orbs and rainbow shards…
and ps. very difficult to comment on site as comment runs on into the green and gets lost…
and ps. you owe me a stinging criticism
Well, I was sitting at the foot of Injasuti mountain idly watching a crow, and the following dawn, due to an ankle injury that precluded my taking part in any more jolly hiking, I was still at the foot of the same mountain range … these were the thoughts that came to me – they seemed pretty meaty at the time!
What did you mean about Comments running off into the green and getting lost? I wasn’t able to replicate this.
The most stinging criticism I can offer on your writing (most of which I very much like, by the way) is that it’s really spoiled for me by typos and spelling errors (such as your repeated use of “loosing” when you mean “losing”) and missing prepositions. In stories about a dictionary buff, these really jar. I know it’s just a blog, but you can hardly claim that your material consists of unconsidered, unedited blurts that depend for their authenticity on that rough, unfinished look, can you? (Can you?)