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October 2010 - Amanda SledzAmanda Sledz

19
Oct 10

recording of a fallen star

ghost of some other’s fortune.

the recording of a fallen star.

captured reflection reflected (neglected) ripple trick till the stomach’s sick. sliding high from the other side a self (not quite the self), lady in red (covered head), clucking from beneath her covering:

don’t go away stranger. stay a little longer, I’ve a daisy, another daisy twisted to crown and twirled tight around and begging beats for five-petal song. what are you doing with all this waiting, this tail-chasing, this mask-making? isn’t there some something-or-other called to uncover (discover), isn’t the sum some something-or-other, and you the only one with any math?

head shakes her shape away and if tongue were split I’d call beyond caw, summon sounds to draw moon to living room for midnight illumination. hunt for similar equations reveals heads turned into neighboring stations, blinking through bars at prisoners poisoned, and me translucent, cobweb hand, erasing all the almost i am.

still i waited (fated).

hallucinated.

armor-plated.

ghost of some other’s fortune.

the recording of a fallen star.

brown paper bag and purple crayon map, oh here’s another star and another, connected by three lines of triangle trick, location tagged throat-lump bagged, colored lines, colored confines. water-logged in winter showers doors locked and concrete blocked. just give me a minute, just one fucking minute. let me call the colors down.

scrying lump scanned by grandmother hands, handkerchief’d, initials stitched, there’s too much shouting (under the lines) escaped from triangle confines, there’s too much shouting and finger pointing and me hiding in the nowhere to hide. tucked into paper head into book there’s too much shouting too many voices each stumbling over another scrambling to surface, scratching for surface and there’s only one scratch to this paper one pen to trick one note to slip there’s only one message for this paper, all mine and passed through time.

asking a question that shouldn’t be asked – has anyone been witness? curse to break, hid from rage, too good at hiding, invisible cloak. too good at hiding, spell to be broke.

staring into nothing muttering some-something to counter the nothing to try again to try and blend to try and never the never-again.

outstretch paw to waiting claw and waiting caw slip into night under judging eyes and hope to be heard at once and again. song unsung, unsplit tongue.

reflected true and reflections of you, uncolored (covered) masked and detached. you never asked.

braided and fated (still I waited)

calling light in, illuminated.

moon colors (so revealing) what were you meaning?

small child’s song gone on too long

and yet I waited (fated)

still through it all I waited.

ghost of some other’s fortune.

the recording of a fallen star.

if this tongue were loving-crafted i’d summon you from distant blue, mouth ocean-filled and undistilled and only one survives the drowning. carcasses capturing the coast line one seal maggot-eyed blind. voice chasing waves away (this way) over the sky’s unstitched border against all orders and the sun spits salt in counter assault, wringing outcry dry. need to be wrung, eye of the sun, eye to the son. done.

sitting on the wire (expired) scavenger, carcass chaser, dark invader. tail fanned and plans unplanned diaphanous wings (no hands) pecking dumb at the lump sum. even black there’s no going back, one eye recording (hoarding) chorus shuddering from beneath my covering, map and math, there’s no going back. greatest fear (i was never here). never heard and never here.

ghost of some other’s fortune.

the recording of a fallen star.

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13
Oct 10

decompressing (monday)

what crawls from the dregs of Britain’s stereophonic lab (room 39) to nest in my neighbor’s eardrum, banishing humdrum, basket flung, bald and irreplaceable in an instant?

color overwhelming, arriving in twisted hues to mixed reviews: scrawled and sprawled, flawed, flavored in the semen of Sunday.

no time to carve totems for this something-or-other in the animated awesome of outfit change.  child white-masked and ear-covered, me red-striped and white dancing demons to 4AM slumber. all before the cab ride and a discount earned from singing “landslide” just right before the day hit rewind and his head was soft exhausted.

dream one: ethereal hummingbird, translucent and pink-winged, nectar-seeking beak escapes light-mask, drinks of me. So that explains it. Introductory perception of faery confection.

This is my confession.

dream two: the moan to groan calls colors home, summons ancients crouched lion in reverse pyramids, spinning circles in micro-waves. they come towards the beacon blasted, the sore spot stinking of tree sap, to the tongue waterfall crawled sparing no fin no gills hunting for those blue-tinted and spider-eyed.

Do you remember me, like this?

and in this late night hour I milk old heartache from my sleeves and wonder why no one reads Elizabeth Smart when she’s among the few sensible enough to be hysterical, choked declarations of preferring dogs to children and corncobs to men. No one raided the farm land like she did. No one vacuumed the glamor from Grand Central and reduced it to assholes with speech impediments panhandling for fetuses they never showed to claim.

Straight jackets make terrible lovers.

Be a man already, you bowling ball.

I’ve been awake like this since Monday.

faery person pulling perfect shots from phantom machines to tiger stripe my eyes. I nod into caffeine foam oh yes oh yes om aum OHM this should brighten, it really should, and he watches me nod off right at the table and dream a gold tooth cigar-soaked laugh, coaxing naked forward. Oh yes. Oh yes.

waking aggravated, anxious, scratching at coming something, new sound escaping hidden hallway, new sound removing swords and trapping them in lakes. It just isn’t safe to swim anywhere these days.

and he swears he’s going to listen, and what does that mean? anchored to observation deck so long, how can he record me recording? monocle for bifocal, hearing aid for sonar. neither of us bats. this is a crow’s game.

always, the eye in your window.

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