2012 The Day After

A reality to come

The good, the bad, the ugly
Casey and art, words he never said; the life he lived

Get off the soapbox, draw a picture.
The point of view is all in the picture
You don’t have to tell anyone what to think or feel about the picture,
How well you draw it will determine how powerful the work of art will be.
Paxton’s words.
Daddies  core;

Slow an deliberate the  bow lifts
Pull back, set.
Mark,
Recurve razor point
Breathe, release. “Renaissance”
Eyes willing through and into a gift of prayer transformed
Blood trail ,Bread trail
Red Stag. “More Magic”
Sunset snowflakes Hang on my eyelashes
again I follow a compass encircling the approaching dusk.
Deep woods holler. an the Aspens dance a warriors’ dance ocher red, Masai  erect they look to be muum huh  breathing  through the hollow air in my head.
“Dehydrated life”
Searching high, through the tangle.
Cold light, twilight. ice crystals ferry my thoughts
Feed the family. “Stir the waters”
River running ridge drops off; to steep, to soon.
Blood trail in the moonlight leads to the edge and way down
A*s over tea kettle.
Ten Points. “Expose yourself to the elements”
Down, down. Dressing out in the bottom. “Don’t criticize what you can’t understand”
Finger tips white cold, Stag red droplets steam cool between the shards of rocks
thin crisp air fills my raising chest
 all most overhead ,the ridge-line dares me to come back, listen..raise up,listen...
luminescent  snow swirls seem to circle the silhouette edge,and my glove too is crusted. My nose starting to get raw. So cold ,I remember the waves of desert heat and the always present buzzards looping ...Listen...raise up...listen...
Up, one foot,twelve inches,on the level equals thirteen times further then up twelve inches. “Ah Balls” I step up.
To the hip, arm ,shoulder squeeze  through one strap, now two,buckle n step off  ,a twig snaps my ear another bitter bite as the weight settles into me. Dislodged snow falls down my back  Given five words to send home he chose only three;“I am Alive”

Red Sky ravine. “New name no map”
No pretty people here tonight.
Red sky pack me home. “Raise or drop the axe”
the decision is mine
the choice is genetic
Free to all who can be true to trust
Cold light, moonlight. “Curtain call”

Yesterday rewinds. last night tumbles away dawns  crimson phantom rises
I stirred the waters.
Ten points. “Worm into a hole and die”
Welcome home, bedroll soul.
Hands laced into cupped coffee warmth.
Angel light smiles on 6 inches of new snow.
Pure magic.
Biscuits and possum gravy.
L V C (Hard times)

Author's Note

so , so , hot, sand in my head, had to think of a cold place, something about freight trains steals your thoughts...

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Can't say i followed all this, is a place outside my head .. but, your words beckoned me to follow and i found them near hypnotic. There are places without escape, cold-hot, hot-cold and more than emotional, when life is extreme. Not sure where my thoughts are here.. will have to return and try again. But, taking certain phrases with me,

'Finger tips white cold, Stag red droplets steam cool between the shards of rocks thin crisp air fills my raising chest ~ all most overhead ,the ridge-line dares me to come back, listen..raise up,listen...luminescent snow swirls seem to circle the silhouette edge,and my glove too is crusted'

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

So so interesting and ranting and on and on and wow this is what goes on in the heads of people - are there no commas in the mind?

This is such an interesting read. Only took me thrice through to hear it. Understanding is still a bit off really, but it still spoke to something that understood. And the speed with which you push and pull the reader.. then slow them down. Perfect and quite a ride through the alphabet.

Perhaps it is that internal dialogue that is ceaseless at time when it should just hush! that I can relate to. (hush!)

Favorite lines:
Welcome home, bedroll soul.
Hands laced into cupped coffee warmth.

Such a feeling of home and normal and ... familiar and sane there.
Wow!

[SHEEMA HUQ]

You have an ability to emulate differing paces and moods with descrptive expertise. Not a poem I fully grasped, enjoyed the feeling conjoured however.

[Leslie Philibert]

Liked the enigmatic imagery that made me think... Paxton ? Robert Paxton ?, then the imagery ( I assume ) based on some kind of experience in nature then the last verse that infers some kind of game with ten points. I like poems that I have to work on, good work.

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

abstract, fascinating..........well done.

[Ken Simm.]

Again a very visual piece but visual in the sense that it is single frames as if exposed in a strobe. The feeling of various heats come through even though you are attempting to find the cool place. For that reason it is albeit in quite a subtle manner a piece of real contrasts wrapped up in multi layered and plural energies. I like its complexities.

[Pax]

The good, the bad, the ugly
really nice..
well done

[M.E.Lyle]

Well, it is interesting. Seems like several random thoughts into one. For awhile I thought you were writing about deer hunting with a bow. Now I'm not sure.
I know about the heat. Here in Texas we've experienced 16 days in a row of 100+ degree weather. Today we get a break at only 99. Thinking of a cold place might make it seem better, but I find air conditioning works better; that or a trip to the mountains.
I like your style. It's a bit unusual but interesting.

[Adam M. Snow]

I like it