It is not with the lyre of someone in love that I go seducing people. The rattle of the leper is what sings in my hands. Jane Kenyon

Sunday, July 29, 2007

S L I P P I N G P I L L S



Breaking Through Dark Clouds


SLIPPING PILLS


Don’t ask for a clear inventory
Of reasons for my decision, too much guilt
Stemming from dishonorable desires,
A lack of understanding from parents, friends,
As they add up simply
To a loneliness.

From “notes to a suicide” by Cyril Wong


These pills are seeds that will
Grow a dream forest. Each seed
Will make a tree with fingers
That pluck silver linings from cumulus
Skies. The leaves will take
The humus of hurt and make of it
A photosynthesized bliss, fresh
As chlorophyll. The fruits will not
Poison your serpentine sleep with comma
Tossed rousing, its seed will lull
You into an Adam slumber
With many a rib awakenings.
See, how easy it is to slip
From sleep into Eden
In this bedroom where there is no
Cherubim with flaming sword,
Only a chariot drawn by flying
Horses.

13 comments:

Louise said...

All I can say is WOW. The photograph is beautiful and intriguing. The poem is clear enough to be stepped right into and lost within.

Cookala said...

oooh, Kianseng! this is quite wonderful - love the turns of phrase in this esp. "hummus of hurt" which really excited the poet in me. wonderful! thank you for posting this, it made an otherwise blah day bright and special!

Paula said...

Kianseng,
a pleasure to be back and see your work again. The poem is an amazing journey in the mind with its distortions and dangerous attractions.

J. Andrew Lockhart said...

very powerful!
Kianseng, I was talking to a friend yesterday about poets and I talked about you. Did you have a strange feeling? :)

aurora said...

Hauntingly powerful! Good to see your work again.

Shubhodeep said...

ah...simply brilliant.. love the haunting feel of the poem...mmmmm....delicious!!

my first visit here... charming poetry...most charming...
hope ill see you at my blog sometime.

C said...

I like the images in this poem.

"Angeldust" said...

sometimes I am so affected by the message/the words, that I must keep the emotions in a quiet place until they evolve into an intellectual perception....

dearest Kianseng
I will snatch this poem too - will share it with some others in "the field".

sorry for my prolongued absences - we will always be in touch, somehow, I assure you. I'd like that very much.

some quieter times are in the horizon as the exhibits are winding down at the of this month and the mural will be finished (hopefully) this weekend (posting progress daily).

I am honestly looking forward to immerse myself in writing and painting for the Sacred Feminine project.
Other things will come around too, as finalizing the apartment to studio transformation and a little transition time making jewelry - gives time to ruminate...

Love and blessing to you, Sylvia and family

Rauf said...

Hi Kianseng,
there very few who life as it comes to them, many die dreaming about life which they can never have.

Blue Sky said...

As always, your poem leaves me much to think on.

- Liz

Sue hardy-Dawson said...

Lovely poem, lots of great images

Pat Paulk said...

Been too long since I've visited. A great rendering of a terrifically sad event.

joey said...

wow

this shot straight into the circle drawn round my heart...thank you

growing my dream forest,
joey