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
blackness--

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

6 comments:

  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.

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  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.

    Always,
    Kay

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

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  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.

    Chen-ou

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

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