Ouija: A Saturday Poem
OuijaSo I turned to a road atlas, in lieu of yourVanilla limbs. My finger along interstatesRan and I said, These are her veins.In blue, lakes and rivers showed their wetSpots and again, my fingers, searching,Sought.Where is a park, where we can hide away?I’m not familiar, I complained, and just thenI felt, Ouija-like, an assistance.Here. Follow me, andI followed, sleep-walking but never more Awake. Here, further a bit.You and I were in Green River.I said I am a stranger here.I asked, Those geese, are they alwaysSo loud?No, you said.Only when they are confused, or Undecided. © Ciprianowords Inc. 2008
I'm usually hyper-critical of poetry, but this is f-in' awesome.
ReplyDeleteI like that. It made me think of all the times I've pulled out a map after moving to a new place, looking for a green splotch that signifies "park", destination for one toddler.
ReplyDeleteWonderful. It deserves publication.
ReplyDeleteThank you, one and all.
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear readers.
It is an awesome feeling to have you read my poems and appreciate them.
I'm with may. This is one of the most freshly imaged poems I have ever seen. I love the subtlety of the entire poem.
ReplyDeleteIn Edward Lueder's "Your Poem, Man" he advises making "wild connections" in order to make the reader see things in a fresh way. He says that "nothing really happens" in a poem "unless there's one thing seen / suddenly against another--a parsnip
sprouting for a President, or/ hailstones melting in an ashtray..."
And concludes, "Tell it like it never really was,
man,/ and maybe we can see it / like it is."
You often do this wonderful, surprising, yet somehow apt, connection.
Love your blog.
-- Emma
Thank you so much, Emma.
ReplyDeleteI am at an Internet cafe, and I', about to post a very unfortunate blog!
MY COMPUTER DIED.
Cip, love the poem! Fantastic map/body imagery.
ReplyDeleteThank you Stefanie.
ReplyDelete[Can I borrow your computer for a little while?]
Lovely.
ReplyDelete