Blood From a Far Off Place

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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
April 26, 2014
Blood From a Far Off Place is sharp, visceral poetry by Iago-de-Xibalba.
Featured by neurotype

Literature Text

Quiver full of bullet tipped arrows.
The bow of aluminum my dad made in high school.
I step into the sunlight on the south side of the house.
I'm 12.

I don't know why I pull the bowstring
back to my eye, aim upward, and loose.
Straight above my head.

And the voice said,
    "You are a most common creature,
though of a peculiar people."

The Sun glints off the arrow's shaft.
I shade my eyes and wonder how long
before the arrow hits me. How long before
I step aside. How long to decipher a riddle
from a lipless voice.

Now I'm 16.

These days, I fire two arrows above my head.
Wondering. Hoping.
Bring back that voice.
One arrow. Two seconds later, another.

But the voice is silent.
Those stone breasted marble men
who plunge deep the trident and
lightning bolts heave, those armless maidens
with hoary teeth and frog's feet,
the top-heavy eagle with a monkey's face,
the knowers of vast things,
the grayness of the vicious mountain crossing,
the jury-blanketed understanding of
the staff of Aaron and the perplexity
of wood into flesh that vomits reptilian
bones beside the throne of Pharaoh golden;
and only in this place does 1996 mean anything;
for this is the way of my mind--
to search for the unknown within
the known and thus return to the
mysterious with hope and despair in thinking
the darkness will deliver its unrevealed.

The first arrow is near. Step to the left.
I will catch the second.
The first lands a few inches from my right foot.
Second, coming. Whistling. Spinning. Sharp.

I reach out my right hand.
The tip pierces my palm.
I catch the arrow by the fletch.
A line of split flesh atop what may
have once been my lifeline.
Whether I had one before the arrow's
descent, I don't recall.
Blood drips from the end of the arrow
and all I hear is the wind and birds
and laughter from a far off place.

I'm rather uncertain about this one, which is unusual for me. I'm doing a bit of experimentation, so I would love to know what you folks think of it.
© 2013 - 2021 Iago-de-Xibalba
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TheGalleryOfEve's avatar
Congratulations on your well-deserved DD!!! :iconflyingheartsplz::iconlainloveplz::iconflyingheartsplz: :clap::clap::clap:
I’m very happy for you!!! :iconloveloveplz: :tighthug:
This is magnificent!
ShaneProcrastinates's avatar
Holy moly, this captivated me from the get-go. I really was whisked away to another place while reading this.

Great use of visual metaphors to describe the surrounding areas. It leaves a sense of curiosity after ever line, making me hunger for more.
The mysterious voice was a rather interesting part, I'm still left wondering about it after multiple reads.
Was it the characters trainer, was it a dragon? Possibly even the father. We shall never know, and neither will the character.

Amazing work here, have a nice day and gratz on the DD :)
SpioradAisce's avatar
Absolutely class. I love this.
neurotype's avatar
Keep experimenting.
PaleAuthor's avatar
Really cool poem, I love the aging process. And congrats on the well deserved DD :la: choir 
This is fucking luscious, J. I remember you telling me a story about shooting an arrow straight up, but I don't remember the words being this delicious. Bravo.
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