Thursday, October 12, 2006

NEWS for Thursday

An unedited stream of consciousness, cut with my volumes of memorized Whitman...someday may be a poem...and a photo from that day...

A man overdosed in a port-a-potty in Camden, New Jersey...Saturday, September 30th But maybe no one even wrote it down what's another dead addict in a stall in the city beside brotherly love...just beyond the river the broken place where Whitman also went to die I depart as air...I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it in lacy jags Still I was there and so now you become a part of my story dead pants slung around your heels veins sizzling with heroin needle still inside The opium eater reclines with rigid head and just-opened lips In the morning you dressed met your friends found your way wondered about the weather waited for the music to hit like the chemical rush The song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun In the morning I dressed in layers against the cold the rain met up with companions found my way wondered about the weather waited for Neil to sing to me about the pale Harvest Moon The living sleep for their time...the dead sleep for their time He did You missed it My lover wrapped around me and sang into my hair I sang against the drunken crowd for once not caring who could hear me how it would sound The smoke of my own breath, Echos, ripples, and buzzed whispers...loveroot, silkthread, crotch and vine, My respiration and inspiration...the beating of my heart...the passing of blood and air through my lungs Counting stars between the breaking clouds the night you died grew steadily more beautiful as hours passed Did someone cry for you Did you have a mother somewhere A girl or boy who whispered your name across their pillow Did you know you'd die without dignity piss in your hair drugs in your blood Did you care or was it just that good The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, It is so...I witnessed the corpse...there the pistol had fallen A day later I drove inferno refineries to my left scarlet fields of broom sedge blazing to my right VanGogh clouds a sky so severe I found my car racing over the ribbon of road and A child said what is the grass...and now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves I thought of you the fallen stranger your first day gone.

by CDS, 2006


Blogger la vie en rose said...

this is really great...and haunting...i love the way you worked whitman's words into the poem...very creative...

3:02 PM  
Blogger Amber said...

I also love the way you worked you rwords with his. Beautiful and so sad... It makes my heart beat with memories of my sister... And my brother... I have been trying not to think about them, but it hasn't worked. She died like this in the month of October. Like this on some dirty couch, with people who did not love her.
My heart breaks.
Did anyone care? I wonder dose anyone think of her?
This is why I did the comfort post today.


4:44 PM  
Blogger b/sistersshoes said...

I hope that wherever he is..he can know that you, a stranger, has honored him in his dying...not an uplifting memory, but remembered, just the same.

Your heart is tender and your soul is rare indeed :)

I thank you.....for him,

4:48 PM  
Blogger pepektheassassin said...

Hey, this is wonderful! What a great and original idea. It worked so well for you. I loved the weaving of Whitman with your own observations. Well done!

7:10 PM  
Blogger ecm said...

I thought this was really creative. Very interesting and I liked the inclusion of Whitman as well.

9:53 PM  
Blogger bb said...

Become a poem someday - then what is it now?!!! Delia this sent shivers all over me. Really quite remarkable, my love. Your writing nourishes me x x x

(p.s. thank you for the beautiful poem :-))

2:58 AM  
Blogger Amber said...

D-- oxox Don't worry about me. I have just been feeling tender this month... It wasn't the poem.
You are beautiful. Thank you. ;)



10:55 AM  
Blogger Left-handed Trees... said...

I was curious what readers would think of a non-poem/fragment for Poetry Thursday...thank you for the reactions. (Amber, I'm wishing you well.) --D.--

12:00 PM  
Blogger twilightspider said...

Wow. This is so deeply felt, so human. The Whitman is perfect, as are your own words.

4:10 PM  
Anonymous acumamakiki said...

I loved this. It was beautiful and moving and I could relate. It's a fine line that we all walk/live.

8:00 PM  
Blogger Left-handed Trees... said...

Twilight and acumamakiki...
Thank you for your heartfelt responses to my fragmented post.

3:43 PM  

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