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no-name-2Poems
Clean shaven, bowler-hatted, crisp-suited men are spattered across the canvas, with stiffened spines, vertebrae militarily ordered, Plunging toward the ground, not falling, plunging, leaden, from a sky the color of a smokers’ lungs, gray and blue from lack of oxygen, sputtering them out. They seem not to notice. Blank-faced, easy-armed, composed, they seem not to notice they are doomed to be piles of splintered bones webbed with sinew and lumps of skin, Thinking as they head toward the ground, praying, “If I pretend it’s not happening, maybe I’ll be okay” from the heartless pavement, gravity with the whole world behind it, yanking them like teeth from the air. Only a few clenched fists betray their terror. Or, the Choking, muted, and embittered city could be letting them go, allowing them to evaporate back to the sky where they belong, Welcoming them home, that sky, not with violence, welcoming, gently, to a sky where ennui is beautiful, star after star after star, whispering that they are important, splendid, lovely. One can only hope.
0
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
Poem inspired by Rene Magritte's "Golconde"
Clean shaven, bowler-hatted, crisp-suited men are spattered across the canvas, with stiffened spines, vertebrae militarily ordered, Plunging toward the ground, not falling, plunging, leaden, from a sky the color of a smokers’ lungs, gray and blue from lack of oxygen, sputtering them out. They seem not to notice. Blank-faced, easy-armed, composed, they seem not to notice they are doomed to be piles of splintered bones webbed with sinew and lumps of skin, Thinking as they head toward the ground, praying, “If I pretend it’s not happening, maybe I’ll be okay” from the heartless pavement, gravity with the whole world behind it, yanking them like teeth from the air. Only a few clenched fists betray their terror. Or, the Choking, muted, and embittered city could be letting them go, allowing them to evaporate back to the sky where they belong, Welcoming them home, that sky, not with violence, welcoming, gently, to a sky where ennui is beautiful, star after star after star, whispering that they are important, splendid, lovely. One can only hope.
no-name-2
Written by
no-name-2
American
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
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