Metronome
METRONOME
On the sticky clay of my uncertainty, in pale flickering moonlight, I pondered the fecund shoreline beneath my feet.
At the pond, half-a-mile across was not too far to swim because I seemed to be going toward something. Something I wanted. Yes, the love impulse had frequently revealed itself in terms of conflict; but this was an old sound, an austere, steady element. A heartbeat.
Yes, I’d been no angel and so what . . .
Yes, tiny fireflies emerged from the murky mist. Yes, the stink of rotting vegetation made me sick. Yes, I lay for hours pondering the treetops, the matriarchal clouds, the moon. In the tender gray, I swim undisturbed, my soul collecting melancholy trophies, my imagination unimpeded.
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This bit of moist prosery was prompted by the line "In the tender gray, I swim undisturbed," by Celia Dropkin, from her poem Sullivan County
And of course, I was fed the prompt by those tender gray folks over at DVerse Poets.
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For this person, tender gray feels like palpable relief in the middle of the "colorful" rest surrounding it. I know it is nit-picking but the word in the quote is "swim" and you have "swam."
ReplyDeleteThanks, fixed it.
DeleteThanks much, Chris!
DeleteImmersed in the primal seas...
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed the train of thought. Especially love the addition of "my soul collecting melancholy trophies". Nice!
ReplyDeleteI also liked "my soul collecting melancholy trophies" in this "moist" stream of consciousness--or awareness.
ReplyDeleteI love the mood of this... very moody with all those slick water elements.
ReplyDeleteLoved the atmosphere created with this :)
ReplyDelete