Skip to main content

Phalanxes


Phalanxes
of plastic ducks: wizards, barbarians--
the occasional detective--
swirl in the giant conundrum.

Plastic dolls (fashion dolls?),
no judgement on brand
or aisle or hair, especially now,
hear the canard-verse
via pathways laid down in heat,
in formless transformations.

They know the wars.
They know the strategies.
They know the tidal energies.

Or so Mandy says, holding a damp doll
by the hair, dripping on the carpet,
sleepy as an oracle 
fresh from a hot spring
[or a bath]
prophesying plastic.

It's been a week since The Sunday Muse. And I'm working on the Indie Summer Read/Writeathon (currently reading Rocket Science and enjoying the drama) and working on other projects...but I find that I'm missing my Sunday poetry. :) 

-- Chrissa


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Once Upon a Future Past

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa
14 comments
Read more

Need

  Sharing with this week's The Sunday Muse #184 . Come celebrate Halloween with verse and The Muse.  I don't think the lantern needed the day; I needed the night: Lit and close and dark and smelling of faraway fires. I needed the smoky flicker that darkened the late-season field I needed the thin linen dress someone else's jacket hides; I needed the nested shadow; not blue, clear sight. It's already a spooky weekend: one window wedged itself just open enough for the breeze to moan beneath, James heard a drone last night (according to him, circling and circling the neighborhood without lights), and our sometimes neighbors have started to set up their backyard for whatever festivities they're planning for Halloween weekend. So...tomorrow (Halloween) will be a good day to read through the books picked up at the local author Spooktacular hosted by a used bookstore not far from here and to say a few final prayers before NaNo begins. Also, celebrating another zine draft r...
13 comments
Read more

On Bad Days

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #186 . Sorry. Probably best to skip this one. On bad days I argue with the void: it is empty; I call it full of nothing made pathological; therefore it obsesses to possess mass, to be something arguing with the universe but shouting in the mirror black as starlit backdrop, as stars that fall deeper and deeper into time until they  drag everything into the void and are empty, wrung out of needing to have an argument and then we look at each other, deep in the black fallen forever of our gaze.  I wasn't going to post this week. But that probably doesn't matter...because here is a post. This has been a weird week and, in the midst of much more important things, my NaNo project just [temporarily] self-destructed. There will be a return to that project and I'm already sharpening the knives for it. Just need to let a little off-topic anger abate so that everyone doesn't get flamethrowers and a crazy 80's soundtrack. AAAAAAAAEEEEEIIIIIIIIIII!...
12 comments
Read more