M
literature

Memento

arctoa's avatar
By arctoa   |   Watch
4 4 746 (1 Today)
Published: January 7, 2010
Warm waves
of light and life
are cut
with the closing of doors

And catch
upon winter winds;
cold conductors
who spin concerto reminders
in the spiral-night sky --



I.
I remember,
foot-falls that
forged furrows in snow:
each step pressing a perfect print
left timeless
like those of pioneers
in lunar landings.



II.
I remember,
a full-moon show
that shone upon silver.
A surface
setting supernovae
in reflection
with street-lamp orange:
a recalesce
in stars and sulphur.



III.
I remember
fire in her eyes,
and a spark
stung hard by the cold
long after.



-- A three-piece
maelstrom of moments
caught like a comet-tail
beyond a body
borne in toil toward
Home.
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© 2010 - 2019 arctoa
Updated: 07/01/2010 @ 17:36
Project2010: 011 of 375 (January 6th)



An old memory sparked by Ulver, the snow, and darkness. Could do with some tweaking, as usual, but here's today's entry. Well. Yesterday's; I appear to be running a day in arrears with regards to uploading.

Who'd have thought I'd come out with an almost-positive piece twice in a week?
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paint by numbers and my writers block are having sex again. i can't do anything creative on my own anymore. we are scattered snapshots, disorganized, not in order, and i'm my own "out of order" sign on a bathroom stall door in a public washroom. my clavicles won't let go of my ankles. i sleep in diagonals and wake up with "i-slept-all-wrong" and "i-have-a-stiffness- in-my-neck-and-a-crick-in-my-back." i had intercourse with purity, i used dirt as laundry detergent, i slept with insomnia as my pillow, and this morning i ate my hygiene in the shower. tan lines were typewritten on my cheeks when i wore your ugly fingers. you
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God told me to hold her. He didn't say; "closer than most" or "handle with care" After all, it is my profession to protect. But when I saw her, saw those bright blue eyes... ..and soft blond curls; I did it like He had said so anyway. They named her soul and called it love. But she was different, and they didn't like it. When she was five, her 'mama' tore that pretty blonde hair out by the roots and there was nothing I could do. Because she told me not to. At ten, her 'daddy' kicked her down the stairs and out onto the veranda. Because she was holding hands with a boy. I caught her as best I could... ...but I could not catch her shatter
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Comments (4)
corvidophiliac's avatar
I think that if you could cut this open, it would bleed Ulver's music (perhaps with a dash of GY!BE). I could hear songs harmonising in my head, strings and hums of low ambient noise with a heavy overtone and surprisingly appropriate clashes of dissonant sound.



and a man, yelling about chickens as he walks through the crunching snow.



So you know, of course I enjoyed it.
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arctoa's avatar
arctoa|Student Photographer
Ahah. Porn Piece and Temporary Peace, I can live with that.
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Tsuna89's avatar
Wow, the imagery doesn't stop, its really wonderful. The last stanza is amazing; very nice way to tie it up. Keep them coming.
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arctoa's avatar
arctoa|Student Photographer
Thank-you for that, it's appreciated.
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