« Mon Bon Ami | Main | Conversion »
April 06, 2005
prose poem (needs a title, any suggestions?)
A man refused to have his picture taken. He was afraid the film would steal his soul. or re-constitute. Two crayons lay next to the ocean. They are both blue. Everything here has been mass produced. The little hotel in the city with the window open. The fresh cut flowers resemble the silk ones in the photograph of my grandmother, 1948. Standing on top of the mountain, arms stretched to the wind, Buenos Aires. Her parachute did not open, her taxes went unpaid. Re-fun. Deep sea diving her mask filled up with tears. Two years from now she will attend a wedding or a funeral. Her dress will be long and blue. It will drag beneath her feet. I am alone here, so there
are four of us. I try to keep from wanting the morphine. I pray with both hands.
Posted by garth at April 6, 2005 07:03 PM
Comments
It should be noted here that Garth wrote this poem in some cafe in Hawaii, drinking pineapple smoothies and getting coconut skin wraps, so, therefore, it is important to hate him.
Aside from that, I like some of the images here. I like the mask filling up with tears, which is a double image working, and the praying with both hands. I am feeling very religious these days...(Amen!)
...But I digress. Time to chop.
...Not crazy about the camera stealing the soul, seems a cliche that is not modified by reconstitution....go back and forth on the two blue crayons...don't like the mass produced line, seems to clash....changed my mind on Re-fun, Garth, it doesn't seem to work, seems a bit contrived....
..still like the mixture of life and death here, however.
Posted by: Anthony Scoggins ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.whypop.net/chopshop/nav-commenters.gif)
at April 8, 2005 09:40 PM