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Pointillism
by Linda FullerGeorges went looking for meaning
He looked in all the usual places...
in the bottom of a bottle of Scotch
in the Bible, the Koran, the Necronomicon
in dreams dribbled through a hookah pipe
at the top of a mountain in Tibet
He studied the filigrees of mildew on his shower tiles
read every other word of Dear Abby (which he found
more illuminating that the conventional method)
gorged on jujubes and junior mints as he viewed
the phosphenes playing on the small screens
of his closed eyelids
He ran himself into sweaty endorphin bliss, then plunged
into the icy depths of Ralph’s freezer section
played his old Wayne Newton tapes backwards
tickled his ancient mother till she wet her pants
He searched some places less than ordinary…
beneath the filling in his third bicuspid
beneath the filling of your raspberry tart
between the plies of a Glad bag
deep within a reindeer’s navel
He fumigated his mind’s attic
diced and spliced his memories into foreign lifeprints
bounced his brainwaves off all the molten lumps in space
and knew nothing more
And it was only when he mounted
the spiral stairway to the top of the tower
and focused his gaze
on the intersection
of the crosshatch
in his rifle’s sight
that he
finally
got
the
point.
06/08/2010 Author's Note: poop, this didn't format properly...
Posted on 06/08/2010
Copyright © 2025 Linda Fuller
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Tom Goss on 06/08/10 at 07:05 PM I love your creativity, very refreshing! |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 07/18/10 at 01:11 AM Some research on Seurat helped me assimilate lines to dots here, and this piece has a certain gestalt quality that frames a bigger picture.
[shorthand for: I enjoyed :] |
| Posted by Paul Lastovica on 08/19/10 at 10:50 PM thank goodness you mentioned phosphenes - i'd been trying to recall the proper name for what I see when i close my eyes : been seeing 'em since i was a boy; everytime i go to sleep. I find it relaxing. |
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