deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Collage Artist
for Joseph Cornell
You leafed through bits of paper,
discarded starlets,
fragments of others’ hope.
Blue swan, opaque rhythm,
perpetual dance.
Stroboscopic saints
were numbered, pigeonholed.
A doll was your mother;
trees grew beneath her dress
when she became a flower.
Planets and lace,
a house in your palm.
The grid across the water:
vast, impassable,
as if rippling were the unity.
The parachute girl
could not land on your heart.
The glass cracked by your own hand,
boxed-in child appropriated,
your dreams the skulls of birds
crying out for cohesion.
You leafed through bits of paper,
discarded starlets,
fragments of others’ hope.
Blue swan, opaque rhythm,
perpetual dance.
Stroboscopic saints
were numbered, pigeonholed.
A doll was your mother;
trees grew beneath her dress
when she became a flower.
Planets and lace,
a house in your palm.
The grid across the water:
vast, impassable,
as if rippling were the unity.
The parachute girl
could not land on your heart.
The glass cracked by your own hand,
boxed-in child appropriated,
your dreams the skulls of birds
crying out for cohesion.
Published 24th Dec 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 6
reading list entries 1
comments 6
reads 752
Commenting Preference:
The author is looking for friendly feedback.
24th Dec 2014 12:11pm
"your dreams the skulls of birds
crying out for cohesion."
Amazing, enjoyed...
crying out for cohesion."
Amazing, enjoyed...
Anonymous
24th Dec 2014 12:25pm
My favorite poem by you so far, Toni...a word magician you are...
24th Dec 2014 1:47pm
This Piece unwinds like the beginning of a MOvie... I would love to hear this read aloud...
Ethereal Write
Magical Prose here!
XOXO
Fire
Ethereal Write
Magical Prose here!
XOXO
Fire
Anonymous
24th Dec 2014 2:45pm
So mystical and beautiful
24th Dec 2014 5:38pm
It's kind of a challenge to comment on your work. It affects me both on an aesthetic and subliminal level. The imagery delights me but defies my efforts to rationally explain why. The title alone snagged my attention. I went through a period in which I fancied myself a collage artist, but my efforts were maniacal and could not be taken seriously as any source of profit. Pure self-indulgence and obsession. But this poem goes much further than the title indicates, and I'm mystified and enthralled. This is wonderful work, Toni, in all its bits and pieces.
24th Dec 2014 11:45pm
