I took my eyes out of my head and set them in cups, like eggs.
Look at them, I complained.
They are like library lions, guarding the doors from the steps,
And the steps are sinister,
Always rising.
I seek the sun inside an egg shell,
I don't even tap with my wrench,
I float,
Like the heavens over a corn field at night...
But it is the corn field in motion,
Not the stars.
Look,
My baby is blind.
Look,
How my eyes sit paired, set before the morning with a linen napkin lying next to them, an adored and lazy lover.
Reach out,
Splay fingers in empty air like prayer.
Sense the scion settling in,
Wearing a summer suit,
Arriving refreshed,
Combed, cologned,
And hungry.
_________
Wow! It is like you are speaking through a Ouiji board, or in tongues. Your imagery is so amazing, always........love this one so much, especially the cornfield that is moving. Eyes like lions guarding the steps. How do you DO this? Your mind is a treasure trove. I love this poem. LOVE.IT.
ReplyDeleteAn intensely personal write, even for you, and I hesitate to take words to it except to say I've read it four times now and still am sifting through it, every time getting another slap to the brain as a word or image hits home. It's rare I have to look up a word I feel I know, but I did it here (with scion) just to make sure I was getting the full meaning(s.) In the end, I'm left with a sense of fragility, chaos and the cruel indifference of what for want of a better word I'll call fate, arriving with who knows what in store next. What a poem.
ReplyDeletedont know how long i would last with out my eyes...floating the fields sounds rather nice though in contrast...i have wanted to take them out at times seeing things i did not want to...this one is a bit of a conundrum to me honestly shay
ReplyDeleteYour poem is awesome...but now all I can think about is how I really want hard boiled eggs. I skipped dinner so...
ReplyDeleteHungry?
ReplyDeleteGood ting you have those eggs ;-)
That whole eye popping out thing terrifies me - but I think your poem is cool anyway, FB. :)
ReplyDelete"I seek the sun inside an egg shell"
ReplyDeleteIf ever there was something worthy of tattooing on your body, this is it. Nicely done :-)
This poem reminds of the comic series "Beautiful Stories For Ugly Children". You really should check it out...
http://beautifulstoriesforuglychildren.com/
Creative ...nice!
ReplyDeleteHmmm..nice
ReplyDeleteThis is beautifully written and deeply unsettling.
ReplyDeleteI was so deeply into your words I didnt look at the photo til I'd begun my second read ..
ReplyDeleteShay,
ReplyDeleteWell, I might approach poached eggs differently now...with a lot more reverence and respect:~)
As always, you delve into the psyche with your creative imagery in a way that no one can top. My favorite lines could be seen on the darker side, "How my eyes sit paired, set before the morning with a linen napkin lying next to them."
I really enjoyed this one~
ojos rancheros...
ReplyDeletegreat poem
i just hate eggs is all :)
Creepy and painful and melancholy and resigned. Eyes as eggs for another's feast: fascinating.
ReplyDeletethe level of wit and inference in this poem is scarily good. I was just reading about "the quotidian" because that word is bandied about in re contemporary poetry and the critic me would say marvelous approach to the quotidian-- i.e. the inversion of the commonplace to its mythic and disturbing aspects. This is also a lovely dance with metaphor, the blind baby of the egg, the eyes..the napkin-- An example and a beautiful one of how language itself makes meaning. When we say one thing is another we are appropriating it and infusing it with ourselves, our sensibilities-- it becomes a personal referent for otherwise ineffable things. You keep this taught and focused, which I also love. I would certainly note this as one of your very best, Shay! xxxj
ReplyDeletethis one blew me away, Shay. intense!
ReplyDelete