| Fall Out
When words fall out of your brain,
the casual mind is becoming
empty of pressures, worries
and wounds, like a toilet's
endless flushing, it makes room
for more, demonstrating
an endless capacity to hold and swirl,
then jettison the useless
waste. Pieces rearranged,
like a kid playing with blocks,
into a tower tall and linear with logic,
or flat, like a parking lot.
It doesn't matter which. Magic’s
in process and both ends serve
a useful purpose. When words tumble
and spill, then flow rushing
from void to void, its easy
to end up all wet and wishing
someone had put up a dam.
Useless try, to pick the words
back up, rearranged neatly, logically
for view, but they, like willful
children, desire freedom
and like water, seek their own
level and sometimes they just level
everyone in hearing and you
can't find anyway to snatch back
your errant children, or soften
the impact, or fill in the impression
that they've made. Gushing,
they issue forth, like blood
from a surging wound, sapping
strength. Perhaps,
like a Sugar Maple's spring
sacrifice, releasing sweet juice,
but mostly they behave like poison
ivy raising an ugly rash
by their acidic ooze.
And then, it's time to get something
to patch up that hole and seal
the tomb tight, or perhaps, you
need to take out the garbage,
just remember, I'm not
a dump. And ultimately, the world
shudders slightly, tilts
to one side and echoes
the reverberations down the centuries,
when words fall out of your brain |
|
Deborah Ryder is a visual artist as
well as a poet. Her growing body of work includes the chapbook Tracing Silver. She was a
scheduled reader at the 20th Annual Wildwood Writer's Conference. Her work can be found in
Experimental Forest and Black Spring Review.
- Beauty for Ashes Poetry Review ©1996-2000
- ©A Creative Ash Publication 2000
- Isaiah 61:1-3
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