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Jar of Char

Submitted by Esker on Tue, 2011-07-05 03:11

here bony words collect
in black and brawny cold ember scatter
no handy tin
a sauce jar
screwcap
with its few threads
turned like the wheel of time
for all these thoughts
let loose to smoke
they are full of briny smoke
like adventures to tame
and masking tape
entry written in smudge
sharpie pen

let them loose first winter
like stale moth wings
scalded by candles
they will land like brown
cancer on the pure slush
of winter they will mix
wordmagic
and linger on the sides
of glass like tragic treasons
spell
letters like a trashed
typewriter whose arms
lay knotted and rusting

and the empty flakes
will in their beauty
bleed them slowly
in intricate wealth

Comments

Esker

Tue, 2011-07-05 06:06

Esker's picture

I love the blog portion of this few venture here
like a room set off from the main floor
I write on another site
and its in a different tone
there also Blog is a more personal
feel This one is about regrets
there are so many sometimes that
lay awakened after day of re exposure
both my parents were cremated and
their ashs scattered First my mother
with cancer and then my father I missed
both funerals caught up in the living drama
played out before they passed
some people write their letters and burn
them this is fictional this telling but Ive
always been fascinated by the use of jars
and the image of burning bits of letters
with fonts dripping for rerelease caught
my thoughts The newest ballpoints
like ruled paper are from overseas and
when immersed in water both the lines
dissolve and the ink as well and then
the paper

"Briny worry" the old aches salted and
preserved like flesh in a jar We can
see through the transparency but by
the same affect unless its released
and dealt with it remains an illusive
and problematic entity a dream edifice
for me and after a long grueling day
the dreams speak of all the unsettled
transparencies

I had also been watching a lot of documentaries
and french animation following ideas scripted
in a visually artistic manner and reading some
well crafted books by both male and female
writers both contemporary Canadians
dealing with interpersonal relationships
and conflicts Drama of a more complex
design then the light reading of atypical
romance or the horror or sci fi genre

our season of winter in its trangressionary
changes has always been an interesting
experience and the most powerful
of dream times for me this blog section
I just continue to create more poems

Thank You for stopping by and giving
this a read Although I write these fast
in a sketched out manner as you can
see there is much going on behind the
creation of this outlet As I said it is a
mere fictionalized sketch of a rather
real scene that I keep in my head

When my mom died of cancer it was
as if the strength of her powers over
the family dissolved like all the words
were winged creations burned with
the disease for me Like a broken
language scattered that kept us together
and we all just drifted off to our own
recoveries Not wholly consumed
but shattered like the ashs the ceremony
transitioned

Wow a large expose on a blog
I guess this is the blog Jane

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