Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Two Hands

Left Handed Poem . . .

green leaves push against the window
shoved tight,
their black veins
holding back the stars,
sparks tossed loosely
against the night,
red traffic lights. . .
show as
malevolent burgundy
through the green veneer
pose a question
about time. . .
a dimension designed
like a stained glass window with
colored and shaped sections,
amorphous in close proximity. . .
with infinite possibilities,
yet show a finite story
as viewed from the distance . . .
as time obstructs a story not told
and all the pieces fit together
like a puzzle finished.


Right Handed Poem . . .

Blue sky is a tight skin
shoved above
burly mountains,
at the feet of which
dark trees
grasp for space.. .. ..
climbing the slopes
one stacked above the other,
elbows and branches entwined. . .
silent at their bunched roots;
but the mountains creak and moan
as they slowly walk.. .. ..
and they crackle
as they shed the loose flakes of mountain flesh.. .. ..
while the marmot peers
over the boulder's mossy rough edge,
with a tuft of hay
to whisker his face,
and a breezeless air
settles on the land
like a heavy blanket,
while a ripple of movement
down the flanks of the mountain
a glisten, as a snake glides
loosely down the hill
with a languid purpose;
and over the heavy air
soars a hawk,
black against the tense sky,
sharp eyes turned to the movements below.. .. ..
while flashes of parachuting seeds 
speckle the atmosphere
moving with a swimmer's purposeful ease
and a tranquil buzzing of insects
litter the sound-waves
when a talcum cloud of dust
arises in a brown puff like smoke,
as the unwary snake
is snatched up suddenly
by the hungry hawk.. .. ..
and the marmot
dives deep into his cave
beneath the boulder.


Interesting, I notice that both sides of my brain wanted to start a poem with something shoved against something else .. ... hmmm . . . it makes me wonder if they are in competition or communication.  This experiment is becoming interesting to me especially if I write a poem a day with both hands . . . one poem for each paw .. .. .. We'll see what comes of it. Yesterday's entry won't count then because I only did the one poem .. .. .. with the left hand . . . 

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