Monday, November 5, 2012

Dispatch from Chaos

The Bavarian stone lithograph tablets
greased and razored to feminize film noir
in a baronial colonial Connecticut home
for the patrons and their saintly gazes,
is it ... enough?

The spirals of gold and green,
the White Ash and Shagbark Hickory,
the couples and labradors,
the plush-floor of leaves,
will it ... suffice for what's
no longer real?

The object must fall away
but not the beloved.
The subject must dissolve
but never the aching love.

The roots in the air,
the boughs on the ground ...
where is the center that's still?

3 comments:

Erik Donald France said...

Good question ~ where is that center?

"greased and razored to feminize film noir" makes me think of Wm S. Burroughs or Blake Butler . . . eerie . . .

Jack said...

So many quotable, prosodic lines. Craft and delving on equal display.

Hannah Stephenson said...

Loving the stillness at the center of this poem:
The object must fall away
but not the beloved.