Beauty

 I stole beauty from another girl--

Ripped it right out of her hands
In a hail of cosmetics and hairspray,
Then ghosted away with it to my underground lair.
But when I tried to bash it open,
The lock wouldn't budge
And anyway, it wasn't my size.


I took it to my mother's house and dropped it dead center on her holiday table--
Shrieking, I raked my broken fingernails right down to the bone of love and hatred that props us together, and she
Embraced
The locked
Foreign
Beauty that I ripped off from some bitch on the bus,
And said, "Daughter,
At last!
Welcome home."

___________

for What's Going On? "Beauty"

House of Mirrors

 

You can open a window

by lifting it

or breaking it

you, with the bloody fist

of Creation.

"You rotten bastard"

can be said with a sly smile

or with his shit out at the curb.

One tongue can speak two languages.

One pane can break in, or out.

Some windows can't be opened.

This one has nine sections,

none of them whole.

Some are bricked up, painted shut,

or warped by weather.

I could tap on your window

with a lopsided grin

or a brick.

Let me in, I want to love you.

Let me in, I want to mess you up.

The blue window at seaside

is a yellow window after dark.

Open in springtime, so sweet the breeze.

Open in winter, someone has moved away

or died. 

I disliked you, but changed my mind.

I loved you right away, but changed my mind.

My reflection in the night-pane isn't the old me.

Should I wipe a clear spot on the window

or lean from the ledge in front of it?

You can open a window

by lifting it

or breaking it

you, with the bloody fist

of Creation.

__________

written for dverse poetics--the romance of the open window

image at top: Jim Holland "Summer Reading" 2005

Music: The Hollies Look Through Any Window

"Us" movie clip Adelaide meets her double.

Word Garden Word List--Shy Creatures

 

Clare Chambers

Hello my little recluses, and welcome to this week's Word List poetry prompt! I have recently read a marvelous new novel by Clare Chambers entitled Shy Creatures. It's about a 37-year-old man found living with his rather dotty elderly aunt. He has a five foot beard and no inclination--or perhaps ability--to speak. He and the aunt are removed to a mental hospital (the story takes place in 1964) where the aunt quickly gives up the ghost, leaving the staff to try to solve the mystery of William, the man of few words. Find my review HERE. 

What we do here is to use at least 3 of the 20 words provided in a new, original poem of our own. Then simply link up, visit at least some others (or you're a dick) and then relax and smile benignly. This prompt remains active through next Saturday. 

And now, your List:

act

animals

arrival

art

cold

crash

cricket

fox

funny

hidden

instinct

mute

naked

private

ribbons

seconds

sky

spirit

ticket

weeds

Pawn

 

I want to pawn my grave

but they tell me it is worthless

and want my skin instead. 

the sky meets a pickpocket

who lifts the sun and sells it on eBay.

roosters' GoFundMe falls short.

the world spins but produces no cloth.

naked world, let me know you, and love you.

it responds with acid ink on sandpaper.

I buy the sun and slaughter the roosters.

I set the world on fire but die alone.

I miss my skin but have lost the ticket.

________

Shared with Word Garden Word List--Shy Creatures

Book Review--"Shy Creatures" by Clare Chambers 5/5 stars.

Shy Creatures is a marvelous and sometimes heartbreaking yarn about a man discovered hidden away in a tumbledown old house with his elderly aunt. An argument has caused neighbors to call the authorities, and they find the heavily bearded, nearly naked, and apparently mute man in an upstairs bedroom. He and the aunt are removed to a mental hospital where we meet a young art therapist named Helen and a married doctor for whim she falls. (Yes, I know, sounds trite about the affair, but the author has a real knack for drawing it in such a way that it's interesting and enlightening.)

The book wavers between 1964 (the novel's "present") and flashbacks that go ever further into the past to tell the tale of how William (the man discovered in the old house) came to be where he was. It turns out that he is not mute, he just only talks when it suits him. His backstory is extremely entertaining and heart-tugging, and his progress at the hospital--and Helen's as well--makes for a fine story. I loved it.

Mister Barbenstock

 

Mr. Barbenstock had eaten one of his students--

a little girl who sat in the third desk, 

far right row, a tiny ladybug in a hand-me-down jar.

There was a flurry of shrill criticisms from yappy parents,

the kind who weep at every brown leaf

and drive their sissy-ass cars to carnivals on Sunday.

Mr. B (as he was known at Grimoire Elementary)

stood out like bloody steak atop a birthday cake--

this bearded, uber-correct male among the ewes.

How many had he done this to? demand school paper reporters,

caps askew in the rough and tumble of a performative press conference.

What evil lies unsuspected beneath blah blah yadda yadda.

Mr. B. hears hummingbirds in his head; they alone can understand

his infinite lovesickness, lugubrious as an engine leak

in his smoking, whirring, damaged heart, hurting him.

His life has become a kind of constant translation--

bathtub to oceanside, mini-Cooper to Graf Zeppelin,

vacant, fidgety students to roaring throng of weird cryptids!

Mr. Barbenstock blinks. The prosecutor is asking for a cardinal number

denoting his victims. Everyone has grown up in a matter of moments.

It's a math problem! He begins to instruct, his forte where he hides.

________________

for Word Garden Word List--Richard Blanco. 

Music: The Temptations I Can't Get Next To You

Word Garden Word List--Richard Blanco

 

Hello my little unread volumes! It is time once again for a new word list poetry prompt! This time our source is How To Love A Country,  poems by Richard Blanco. Your faithful but slothful, no-account, do-nothing hostess is only half way through her current read, and so I had to select something else. Delving into my poetry shelf, I found this one. I have not read it and so can supply no review. I only know that Mr. Blanco was an inaugural poet for Barack Obama. 

This poetry thing that we do is such a funny animal. It isn't like novel writing, or journal ism, or jotting down one's thoughts on events. Poetry is some mixture of dreams, imagination, hard truth, form (or not), rhyme (or not), and somehow saying the things that cannot be said as well in any other way. It is a way of making the universal personal, and the personal universal. It is the art of not saying a thing directly, but somehow saying it all the more clearly for that. It's magic, light as a feather and heavy as a jackhammer. It exposes lies even as it is filled with invention. It's a helluva thing and I love it. 

What we do here is to use at least 3 of the 20 words provided in a new, original poem of our own. Then simply link up, visit others, and perhaps do what your hostess has not done, and read Richard Blanco! This prompt remains active until next Sunday. Note: please no haibun. 

And now, your List:

audacity

bearded

cardinal

children

cure

eaten

erase

exactly

exile

hummingbirds

infinite

jazzy

lovesick

prayer card

sea

sissy-ass

sky

translation

veil

yappy