by Brynn Dizack
the vast sea of winter, and
my heart is a tiny stowaway.
planks creak and nag,
beams shift and
i draw deep lines with my pacing.
the pulse deadens.
i am bailing out buckets
no to you--
no to your blackstrap eyes and drumskin,,
no to the reds of your history and wine
our enigmatic quips and endless defenses,
like some familiar cuteness, forgotten.
oh, the snow can wage.
don't we already know its deep silence?
its dull weight? and, ultimately,
what more can we say of a force whose only power is in its accumulation?
cretinize me, i
am prepared to lose.
dole out your days to me, january,
lye-soaked,, in an effort to
leach some fractured version of our memory:
moving infinitely in the dark,
the way light
reflects on sugar.
by no, i mean,
Author's Note: algo con alas de pájaro, algo de angustia y de olvido.
(así como las redes de pesce no retienen el agua).
Posted on 01/22/2011
Copyright © 2022 Brynn Dizack
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Ava Blu on 01/23/11 at 03:04 PM|
|Posted by Anita Mac on 01/24/11 at 05:20 AM|
... You are brilliance bottled in flesh. I wish you posted more, little bird.
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 01/24/11 at 06:06 PM|
I timeless poem for our current season. Well delivered Brynn. Excellent unique style, poetics also.
|Posted by Elizabeth Shaw on 01/24/11 at 08:16 PM|
like your style - its molasses sing like a love drug.
|Posted by Laurie Blum on 01/25/11 at 01:49 PM|
'the way light reflects on sugar' that is a wonderful line, I know exactly what you mean. This a great poem Brynn. Delicately emotional.
|Posted by Melissa Arel on 02/05/11 at 03:00 AM|
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 07/24/11 at 01:01 PM|
this poem feels completely musical to me and oh so intelligent and lest I forget, artful and well spoken.
|Posted by Laura Doom on 09/06/11 at 03:58 AM|
pablo honey, despair is sweet...
I've often wondered if imagery had a purpose beyond self-indulgence; this is my suggestion...