Sunday, July 08, 2007

A New Mythology

It’s not about the bees.

We dream differently,
faces to the ground listening
for the tremble of the water table
set for who knows who?

It’s flowing through this earth
and that earth, weaving the earths together
into a primordial ooze. This is a mythology.
Who knows what is true?

In my dreams you are naked
and bleeding; you have three children;
you are a black butterfly; we argue.

I am a tree.
Rooted.
Feeling you move.

6 comments:

Talia said...

Love that "primordial ooze"

nfujimoto said...

I like "I am a tree.." --Naoko

Charmi said...

Talia - tried to get rid of that line but it wouldn't go.

Naoko - I was thinking of you then, feeling guilty for talking about trees. They are so you.

Irony (or God has a wicked sense of humor) I was watering the garden today and got stung by a yellow jacket. That should get some laughs.

Vince said...

Charmi,

Amazing poem. Your sentence constructions are so direct and simple. The pictures are clear and detailed with a biting precision. The images are glossy like heavily colored pictures in a magazine.

But there is something else about your word choice. Your turns and twists as the poem moves. It is less jumps, and more turns. You guide us through slowly but without telling us where we are going.

You let the domestic creep in, the day to day, but as always, there is something about the poem that reaches for the stars. And although you talk about roots, this poem really has no roots. It is more like a constellation or a cloud. With its light, perfect images and weightless questions and tone, it floats.

Anyway. I really liked this poem. As always, when it comes to your work.

Also, thanks for gettting these writers get togethers going on. I hope to stay longer for the next one.

Cheers.
Vince.

Charmi said...

Thanks, Vince. Glad you liked it. Poems are incredibly hard for me right now. Only occasionally does one come my way. I suppose that means I should turn back to my fiction.

How about you? It was good to see you yesterday. I wish we could have talked more. The next one will be in the evening at Howard Park. I hope more people can come, stay long enough to talk to...

david dodd lee said...

great poem, but I love this
quote from your last post

"bringing her basin to America"

Great title for something--