Monday, April 18, 2011

The Forest through the Trees

I meander an ohm
resisting the conductor
who asks of me
one note

I cannot find it
in the crevasses
of my brain

deep in fissures
before I was born
in the dark womb of life
I began the search

amazing patterns rise
from my thought-prints
smooth pink bundles

with cleft palates

nerves where I am
so far down...
I see only hard-to-breathe

it is not empty
this brain of mine
some halls rife with life

rifts spread the reef
the pink coral coralled
I swim the dark channels
searching for my voice


  1. How often does one receive a poem from a fetus!? And one so accomplished at that?. Kind of supports the idea that poets are born, not taught.

    What exciting imagery! A bit heavy on the music there at the end. Not sure you want to go out with the blare of "trumpets". Your call.

  2. So many thanks, Brian. I've missed your sharp eye. Maybe the spring and summer will release our muses. :0) Your work has been very good.

    And, I will revise this. I think you're spot on. Time to tone it down.


  3. So beautiful...the revised lines perfect. Really jaw-dropping work, Kay.

  4. Kay, the question raised in Brian's first reply could be answered by the implication of the title, which is one of the thematic foci of the poem.

    Nicely done.


  5. Chen-ou, it's so nice to hear from you. Thank you for you kind words. I hope you are well!