24
Nov
13

a walk along the edge of the world (letters)

they tumble away from you like an unfinished word, the last few letters slipping down the valley w

a    l

l.

the period stopping their fall, but they end up all a-jumble at the bottom of the bowl.

DSC08014the l all ornamental anger at being the last one, all filigree wrought from vowels and consonants.

DSC08016you start over then, sweeping and stumbling, gathering momentum, that rolling stone of accents, slights, punctuation, and clouds (unformed thoughts).

DSC08017someone’s left a marker, a guidepost, a stele (minus the priapus guarding the flock), but you ignore it, little puffs of dust marking your transit.

DSC08019c l o u d s h a n g i n t h e s k y, parked like aircraft waiting to land, bringing all those memories (your mother on the motorcycle, your cousin in pig heaven, your grandmother’s mustache) laughter like tears (and rain.)

DSC08022the ocean

tilts away from you

blue blue blue blue blue blue blu bl b (the variations too numerous to name

or blame for the melancholy of your letter-writing.)

DSC08025you stop being so cryptic and speak the truth: catalina island hangs between the sky and the ocean, a mirage.

DSC08026the truth then comes unabated, a rush of sky-scraping

DSC08031until all you see is the edge of the world,

DSC08037flat (letterless)

DSC08040and with nothing left to say, you turn and amble

DSC08041like a sleep walker down the hallway headed toward the past.


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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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