Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Hungarian plums


a scatter of
green fluted plums,
scented clove-- 
a chill gust
the heat of her

As you
toss in untroubled
and I breath
in every

Lay your head
nearer the narrowing
now and raise
the slow of her heart 


Thursday, June 12, 2014



The flower tumbles
I watch
She replaces it with a blade

Memory is a mirror
that has no face
hibiscus keeps the woman
who has lost her place

Covet the key
worn dull by habit
the pop and the stutter
of deep rutted groove

Worn dull by habit
the secreted blade
slumped back lounger
a witness, a spade.

The secreted blade
squat sodden loaf
damp strewn news,
a squandered note.   


Glint of desire
slipstream of dreams
distance transfigured
not what it seems

Spit slick the key
draw swift the blade
a puzzle-- a mirror
three sisters, a braid

Where shadow meets shadow
she floats the stair
lover, assassin
sandaled and rare.

Memory is a mirror
that has no face
hibiscus keeps the woman
who has lost her place.

Tags:  The Yellow Wallpaper, Picnic at Hanging Rock, eros and thanatos, strangers when we meet

At Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Susie offers “bits of inspiration” via Maya Daren (1917-1961), filmmaker, poet, dancer, ethnographer.
Deren believed that the world of film was an untapped medium for exploring time, memory and movement.  Her groundbreaking work influenced such artists as Luis Bunuel, Jean Cocteau and David Lynch, among others.
In her seminal film, Meshes of Afternoon, Deren probes the themes of memory, identity and ritual via a woman’s subjective experience of familiar objects and domestic routine. Deren employs continued motion through discontinued space to induce a trancelike state in which the ordinary is suspended.  As the woman descends into a stuporous dream state, a vortex of raging and stifled energy emerges.  A play of repetition and variation heightens her sense—and ours –of restlessness, claustrophobia and anomie.

“And what more could I possibly ask as an artist than that your most precious visions, however rare, assume sometimes the forms of my images.”
Maya Deren