Geometric Onion Dome Girl

Geometric onion dome girl has a resentment against stars.
Everything must be rooved--taxis, coffins, bus kiosks, and especially churches
because every little light can't be a christ.

Geometric onion dome girl got a paper cut from a phone book
while trying to give blood to the past to revive it.
The operator denounced her, 
just for old time's sake,
and quoted maxims instead of backing up her soul
with a more modern device.

Architects don't care about onion domes anymore,
and geometry is all angles and curves.
Revolutions never happen in the rain.
Tea is weak and poetry no longer burns.
Stars don't even light cigarettes,
and so the savior of circumferences plots a mid-point
shooting herself into space like old light in transit. 


. said…
"the savior of circumferences plots a mid-point

You are so wicked-awesome. I love your poetry.
Anonymous said…
oh oh oh! Forgive the one or just gisting reading - I'll sit with this for longer .... but holy hell, or cathedrals, I'm totally sitting with the last stanza and just soaking in it. Delicious, yet biting. Has that onion sting - and only heat can sweat the sweetness into an onion. (I once made this astonishing revelation to myself, about myself.)

Yup, great image - and well, that's all for now. I'm going to sit with this awhile.
Sioux Roslawski said…
"... poetry no longer burns"?

It surely does when Shay is the poet. ;)
Rommy said…
It's sad when people see stars not as something to aspire to, but something to resent, because their existence violates their world view in some manner. Geometric onion girls are plentiful, sadly. Many of them are cultivated that way.
Kerry O'Connor said…
Such a powerful poem of our times, Shay. You have blended your magnificent imagination which fair commentary on churches, architecture, individualism.. among other things.
Mama Zen said…
"because every little light can't be a christ." That is one of the best damn lines I have ever read.
Cloudia said…
You are working at your best YET!!!

"Geometric onion dome" Stopped me and I'm still fuddled by the concept.

"Geometric onion dome girl has a resentment against stars."
Oh yeah. Sets a tone balanced between deep/intellectual & colloquial. An easy connoisseur-ship by someone who likes dives and worn streets. See, this is why I relate to you.... now I gotta get back to the Warriors victory parade on the TV...

AND you used the word: rooved!

You're amazing
Sherry Blue Sky said…
WOW! All spectacular, rising towards that exceptional closing.
Carrie Van Horn said…
You have such a wonderful imagination, and way of saying something like no one else can or dares. So many lines I love! Like so many of your poems, I had to read it over and over to soak it all in.
Carrie Van Horn said…
.....and thank you so much for joining us at the sunday muse!! :-)
Vivian Zems said…
So evocative! Your mastery at whipping words around is profound. I imagining blood being given to the past. A wonderful write!
hedgewitch said…
This is one of my favorite voices of yours--with both the science and religious slant and the informal feel--the resentment of stars seems to spell out a lot that's wrong with our current state. The insubstantial(dare I say flimsy) quality of modern life seems nicely summed up in the last line, but there's also a historical feel that all this has been building/disintegrating for centuries("trying to give blood to the past")A fine, fascinating piece, Shay.
brudberg said…
Every little light can't be Christ...

yet we see stars in every potentate... the onion dome made me think Kremlin...
tonispencer said…
My goodness but you cut up those onion domes and made them sizzle in your pan. You just keep getting better and better!
Thotpurge said…
This is just fabulous, the last verse is a killer..loved every line!
kaykuala said…
Architects don't care
about onion domes anymore,

Architects play it easy now all given through their database. Great word-craft Shay!

Brendan said…
Between the lost and the future this present, prescient, diminished, yearning capability, filling in where tea and poetry has been lost. Humanity is this chick, hip but getting hippy, still shooting for that space "between / ennui / and / effervescence," a dotage counted out in roofage. Keep on keepin' on, babe. (Applause.)

Popular Posts