Cinquain Chain: Links 9 & 10 (NaPoWriMo 2016)


(Link #9 of a poetry exchange between Natalie and myself. Making a chain of cinquains 
[a Cinq-chain?] in an effort to "un-chain our muses.") 

Around
what dead thing are
the vultures circling?
There is always a corpse somewhere
nearby.

Nearby,
there are blossoms
breathing in the dark night.
Why is the air so empty in
our dreams?

Our dreams
where we descend
with stones in our pockets
like Virginia into the dark
water —

water
which bears the weight
and weeps to consume us
and delivers our bodies back
to land.

To land
in a place such
as this, to fall like bombs
into an abyss. Sky becomes
water.

Water
waits for what falls.
The bones of thoughts lie half-
remembered, settling, eaten
by time

by time
which wavers like
curtains at a window
devoured by moths, mice, and men
until —

until
it stands with a
backbone of its own and
says with breath from a distant wind:
enough.

Enough
of this wasteland
pantomime, this taste that
still waits on the edge of our tongue’s
desert,

desert
of the mind’s end,
end of the places where
we can offer our selves any
comfort.

…keepin’ the Po in NaPoWriMo…

Cinquain Chain: Links #5 & #6 (NaPoWriMo 2016)


(Link #5 of a poetry exchange between Natalie and myself. Making a chain of cinquains 
[a Cinq-chain?] in an effort to "un-chain our muses.") 

(It seems appropriate to show the whole chain thus far, so I have included Natalie's
deliciously dark Links, #'s 1,3&4.  Which is what the link above, umm, links 2--er, to...)

Around
what dead thing are
the vultures circling?
There is always a corpse somewhere
nearby.

Nearby,
there are blossoms
breathing in the dark night.
Why is the air so empty in
our dreams?

Our dreams
where we descend
with stones in our pockets
like Virginia into the dark
water —

water
which bears the weight
and weeps to consume us
and delivers our bodies back
to land.

To land
in a place such
as this, to fall like bombs
into an abyss.  Sky becomes
water.

Water
waits for what falls.
The bones of thoughts lie half-
remembered, settling, eaten
by time.




...keepin' the Po in NaPoWriMo...