Monday, March 02, 2009

the hoofer springs some spirits (damn, this poem is just so SoQ and otherwise crap that I can't write it)

as young birds at the drumming
at the drumming quivered
wondered and trembled
in dreams of smoke and thunder

something even now was coming
to their black place below something now
was coming under

under the concrete garden
plant spirits heard her tapdance and caper
rapping through raft and pad and footing

her steel-tipped shoes hoofing wild
her whirls of blue dress
swirls of sunlight about her lips

she is stress and eclipse
intone and overtone
in sunshine and in moonlight
streaming duendé all the night
all next day she tapped
her affray

all this they hear
they feel and sense and fear
in their spirit guts
in chakras of soil
of cellulose of light
of smoking sap-oil

roll dig drop and roil
double tap flap shuffle and simmer
the pidgin percussion of summoning
of waking behold
eek of making

spiny things they were
they are they are to have been
adrift of tense and declension
stifled and stopped and eschewed
all elbows twigs rotten
thistles of osseous attitude
of blackthorn and setting sap
of pent-down spirit
caught in a concrete handclap

ball tap heel tap step and touch
soft shoe kerfuffle she hoofs
on their pressed-flat aches
flapdancing the blue flapper
cracking the roof
..........O air flood
scraps of sky smacking daylight aloof
flop out wriggling and flipping
mud-skippers in their guts and blood

two steel-tipped shoes rise away
whirring aloft in a swirl of blue
up and out into wide Spring day


Anonymous said...

yeah but it does get beter and better!


Anonymous said...

ha, I see you've performed an ampersandectomy!

It's been interesting to see this one evolve. I'm liking it, Amanda

Steve said...

Well, yes, hmm, cheers - it's driving me slightly mad!

;( Steve.