left in a muddle of marks, screams,
an unspoken vision of calamity,
averted for now
I make my way along the beach
upon which nothing grows,
I see cormorants carve air currents and
shriek of triage, I leave my splintered mark
Would you ever want what you heard
plastered across the wind
If there were not some declarative power
that turned realities upside down,
dangled coherence in blue?
To make this pome blog worthy, here is a little conversational food for thought with my former college roommate and fellow writer Steve Perry:
Steve: If your flute thrashes time, I recommend a metronome
Damon: the flute is tribal, bordering on jazz.. Kill Bill with a giant nod to Miles Davis, Charlie Parker. The poem on the other hands draws connections between flute playing, cormorants flying, looking at a sky & branches upside down––gaining a new perspective on life each day. Therefore, introduction of metronome is a great idea (Kashup has nothing on this logic, I believe.)
Steve: I loved going hiking with you, and you were like "the forest is 3-D and the trail winds one way..." and then I tried to rush ahead and got more lost than ever have in my life....
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
ché la diritta via era smarrita.
In the middle part of my life
I found myself in a dark forest
where the direct way was lost.
Steve: Oh yes, now it all comes back to me. I remember the very class. Did they actually make us read Purgatorio!?? Shit.
Damon: Professor Brose and the sweet new style. That line of Dante's always stuck with me though... I'm just starting to understand it.
Steve: That was a good text. I'm reading the Anthology of English Literature right now, got through Beowoulf. On to Chaucer, which is like trying to read in Spanish.
Damon: Chaucer is awesome.. Boccaccio's Decameron was preferred tho...
Steve: Who was the fem fatal in Dante?
Damon: The fem fatale was that dame Sam Spade almost fell for... man, I think I just finished a classic my friend (Arisugawa Park)