"remora" poems
From the very far dark, deep and beating black,
there’s ghost breath, and blue light after,
where I un-broke myself,
next morning.
I’m under, curled to a pupil
of the bed’s eye,
so I blink the dream out.
Asleep, plants are respiring,
and the loam of their dream
is lifting, thinner.
Then the real interrupts,
erupting as a day,
and shimmering back again.
Like the shore that shares it’s time
between sand and ocean.
A fully open cup
fills up in the moment,
wherein that infinite shrinks,
and the universe grows backwards,
backwards Into,
cold coffee and dog ends.
Strange that.
It's not a nocturne,
It's an echoe of a day,
It's a memory of a memory,
It's a remora on reality.
Strange that.
why when last night,
my ashtray was full of stars.
The clock infinitely deepens
the memory of the dream.
But it’s there,
only just there.
That maybe, perhaps, dreaming of us,
somewhere in the brightest time of the night,
somewhere in sleep,
in the inbetween spaces,
somewhere there,
we left ourselves in mermaid’s purses.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 1:09 PM UTC
When that day comes, whose evening says I’m gone
Unto that watery desolation,
Devoutly to thy closet-gods then pray
That my wing’d ship may meet no remora.
Those deities which circum-walk the seas,
And look upon our dreadful passages,
Will from all dangers re-deliver me
For one drink-offering poured out by thee.
Mercy and truth live with thee! and forbear
(In my short absence) to unsluice a tear;
But yet for love’s sake let thy lips do this,
Give my dead picture one engendering kiss:
Work that to life, and let me ever dwell
In thy remembrance, Julia. So farewell.
2k
I was attacked by jellyfish.
Clear umbrellas
circus tents with mardi gras beads
hung down the side
like indian fringe
tentacles stretching stretching stretching stretching
and stopping.
And stinging.
Those mother smuckers
shooting venom
like Belushi shot ******
through my skin
Chinese acupuncture
sticky jelly arms sticking
plucked off suction cups
like fake tattoos rubbed off
with bare fingers
skin burned
a sixteen alarm salt fire
contained by ocean
no flame but pain
and water stings
the tickle from tentacle to skin
not even a fish
but a gillfree zooplankton
free from captivity
but caged to my skin
like a remora
those shark suckers
but I'm not a host
just prey in the way
for a swim in the gulf
or a walk on the shore
or a pet at the zoo
my chest my feet my hands
stung like ghost bees
not seen but felt
glossed with mud
this time tide sand
wet like tsunamis
mixed with vinegar
rubbed like bay leaves
under the nose
to relieve congestion
but on the wound
to relieve infection
my skin reddens
like rose bloom
from gypsum sands
and I want to sleep
sound as Beethoven
but wake again
like an immortal sea jellie
roaming every ocean
like De Soto or Marco Polo.
Marco
Polo
Marco
Polo
Fish out of water.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:10 PM UTC
Deafened by your silence
Lonely in a crowded place
I look for a glimpse of hope
In a once smiley face
Dead eyes that see
A broken heart that beats
I fight against the blur
Of your voice that still defeats
My memory has lapsed
Your words are my remora
I should have never opened
The box owned by pandora
Evil lurks in every crack
In every crease
Your work of art
Your masterpiece
Jingled my bell
Frightened my serenity
Striped my soul
From any trace of identity
Stamped on my heart
Ridding it of blood
Causing my eyes to water
A never ending flood
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 12:55 PM UTC
Driving Remora Way
v1
Driving through the rain
Clouds are grey and rumble
Lighting is around in circles
Just find a little peace
v2
Through dark days where
There might be sorrow
From a heartbreak of cold
Feeling trembles with shivers
v3
Rushing the cold rain
falls down pelting face
The window was jarred slight
Wetness drips down face
In the dark by soul aware
v4
Heartbreak driving in remora
Wipers on full speed through
The dark of day no shine
No beautiful mirage
v5
Blackness of grey and dark
Tremble the fear in the rain
By remora way by it's dirt
Of the old road track
v6
Heartbreaking all alone
In desperation to have
A little light in this dark
Road of Remora Way
v7
For the only place it rains
Nonstop by the fall of dark
It is the road by the dark rain
Before you see the highway
Of light
Driving Remora Way
By deb Harman (c) 7/9/14
(Dark Poetry )
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
how can you know a feeling
if you've never felt it before
realizing that
it has finally absorbed into my pores
overthrown my body
and taken up residence
in the oceanic depths
the Marianas Trench of my heart
now holding the reins
a nameless shadow living in my chest cavity
and eating away at the resolve
that has shackled me
and driven me on slick black asphalt
into palpable darkness of
a world i've never seen
how can you feel
when you don't have words
holding a dictionary to my heart
and praying to the gods
Merriam
Webster
to provide me with the
mixture of letters that might
shatter my muteness
and provide
permutations of syllables to
intercede for me
and finally give me
a label for those ephemeral tendrils
i feel protruding from me
and reaching
reaching
for you
how can i use a word
that is merely ink on a page
when this inundation
has flooded the streets of
my hometown
swept me away
and the only anchor i can find
is the chocolate profundity
of your eyes
that you lower in
what is that emotion
another word without meaning
that lives more as a
crushing pressure
grinding my bones to dust
shrinking me to a singular point in space
and time
time
you tell me to go slow
slow down
but how can i when my foot
is glued to the accelerator
and i am driving full force
into the brick wall of
more emotions i can't
touch
always just out of my
groping hands
calling your name and
the only word i have found
that seems to incapsulate
this churning rapacious feeling and
exquisite pain that
needs simply a word to
help you understand
because you can't feel what i feel
though i would allow you
to vagabond through my cerebellum
and maybe spend a night
in the absolute obsidian night
of my cerebrum
where that unnameable emotion
is the only thing
that can keep me warm
i'm an alien without country
without language to
communicate with this foreign world
where i have latched on
to you
your remora
for you most certainly are a shark
circling your prey
and i wait to be devoured
i welcome your destruction
the fires that rage from
the tips of your fingers
as they trace the lines of my
enemy body
ready to explode with
that emotion you urge me
to put away
to repress
and wait for another day
to inform you that
i love you
even if you don't love me back.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC