Friday, February 24, 2012

Desire Skeleton

The mountains are heroes watching mean streets.
They invite us thru blue doors that meet earth and trails that end in stars.

At the restaurant, my daughter
hands me a receipt, "you owe me for when you weren't
there and I needed you," she says.
I call it intervention because of her drinking.
She calls it a free breakfast with a .45 on her tongue.

I want to live inside a snowflake and dream in hexagonal
videos that teach me the cold logic of life.

In the winter air sirens scream on the road.
In the desert snow an owl disembowels a rabbit.

She writes: "Words are loose ends strung along
a line of disease and cure, passion and ennui.
The game of chance ends in silence."

At the core of who I am sits a worm
that would eat a hole in the heart of the world.

Half-lives and bad dreams play shadow puppets
at the edge of dead volcanoes in the west of the city.
Red rocks hibernate in mud and in Spring
will open a gate to below where the world began.

(c) copyright 2012 Charles David Miller. All rights reserved.

16 comments:

  1. Charles, powerful piece. I love how this progresses, the philosophical detail and the ins and outs of thought are wonderful. I'm big on titles in general, but even more so when they really fit the piece, great job with that, really a great title. And if I wasn't impressed enough, you killed it there in the last stanza, the ideas pertaining to half-life I've always found interesting and have used such ideas many times myself- love how you tied the concept in here and in such company as dreams, volcanoes, sleep and gates-- great job again. Thanks

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  2. The heart is a dappled place, dark and bright, freezing and cozy. It's a silo of history and a garden of soul-making experience -- the mystery that grows out of history. We hurt when we don't love enough, hurt more when we do, it seems; and we have absolutely no power over those we would do everything to change. I have a stepdaughter from a first marriage I've been long estranged from who's in her 30s now, an addict and stripper and raging mother-blamer (my ex has been desperately trying to get custody of her two children) ... she almost drowned last summer found floating drunk at the bottom of a pool like the worm at the bottom of the bottle, of my heart. She is me, my own history, my alternate ending and ultimate possibility (for anyone, any time can change). The cycle is geologic, as you say in the last stanza, or rather, time in the heart passes that way -- Brendan

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  3. The ending here sort of turns things inside out, from the narrator's heart to the heart of experience, the dark hells, the fertile soil that nourishes, all below, within. The beginning, in hope and beauty, the strife and injustice of loving and living, the cycle of life and death--does every death nourish something? every wrong force another wrong, or a right?--the human predicament in all its parade of 'passion and ennui,' well illustrated and even, I think, resolved in that knowledge that everything plays out over an incalculably huge and impersonal landscape of space and time. Beautiful, seeking poem, Charles.

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  4. dang charles..your imagery takes my breath away...this is an awesome write..love how you mix reality with metaphor..off to read again...

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  5. goodness man, this is good. love the .45 on the tongue...her words:

    Words are loose ends strung along
    a line of disease and cure, passion and ennui.
    The game of chance ends in silence

    make me shiver...i feel that worm turning...

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    Replies
    1. Sorry about where this comment is appearing but the computer is screwy today--


      You have so many great lines in this piece and as a whole it just hangs together so well--Loved the last stanza--especially its opening line

      Half-lives and bad dreams play shadow puppets

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  6. The opening lines are just fantastic, and didn't let me go.

    The piece just flows so well, and the images are just so strong and vivid.

    Great work here.

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  7. Charles...these words have teeth...no fangs! Hindsight, past mistakes, the demons that haunt us on our journey to evolve...the reminders, the guilt trips and slips...Love this! Beware that earth opening, Poet...we can't lose you yet!

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  8. Wow ~ a really powerful and heartfelt poem....your imagery is terrific. Great piece!

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  9. What a wollop you deliver here, Chaz! First, that title...hooked me right into the Thanatos/Eros we see in all of life. I like much the way you go from the shocking macro concept of the .45 on the tongue to the chilling micro life inside the snowflake. Brilliant! My favored lines at the moment (will need a second and third read) are"at the core of who I am sits a worm who would eat a hole in the heart of the world" Altogether, a powerful, original, thought provoking piece. Bravo!

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  10. Your poems are always such a wonderful read. I love this line:

    "I want to live inside a snowflake and dream in hexagonal
    videos that teach me the cold logic of life".

    I'm rather a virgin, when it comes to comments, but, I do intend to become a bit more insightful :)

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  11. Excellent Charles. Great word choices and flows, and what a grabber: The mountains are heroes watching mean streets. -- SMA

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  12. great metphors, the mountsins watching the streets (a metaphor for the gods) and feeling like a worm.

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  13. Beautiful imagery...desire skeleton...nice work!

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  14. What can I say that hasn't been said? Love this, especially

    Words are loose ends strung along
    a line of disease and cure, passion and ennui.
    The game of chance ends in silence

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  15. What a wonderful read and I have read it many times - intoxicated with the beauty of its words and amazing imagery!

    Anna :o]

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