Thursday, June 19, 2008

Re: Happiness, in pursuit thereof

It is 2005, just before landfall.
Here I am, a labyrinth, and I am a mess.
I am located at the corner of Waterway
and Bluff. I need your help. You will find me
to the left of the graveyard, where the trees
grow especially talkative at night,
where fog and alcohol rub off the edge.
We burn to make one another sing;
to stay the lake that it not boil, earth
not rock. We are running on Aztec time,
fifth and final cycle. Eyes switch on/off.
We would be mercurochrome to one another
bee balm or chamomile. We should be concrete,
glass, and spandex. We should be digital or,
at least, early. Be ivory-billed. Invisible
except to the most prepared observer.
We will be stardust. Ancient tailings
of nothing. Elapsed breath. No,
we must first be ice. Be nails. Be teeth.
Be lightening.

-- CD Wright, from Rising, Hovering, Falling



Radish King said...

Oh Peter, this is wonderful. Thank you for posting. I must find this book. I havn't thought of mercurochrome in years. It stung, but I think the GOOD MOTHERS always had it in their medicine cabinets.

Peter said...

Glad you liked Rebecca.

Some of my favorite lines:
"the graveyard, where the trees/ grow especially talkative at night,"
"Invisible/except to the most prepared observer."