Word Knots

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Span of index, arms weakened

Rambles upon wrinkles, I am

Pressed between Earth and

Air…..Flow upon my continent’s

Systems, scattered over ranges

 

Puddles flirt with thirst, Lakes,

Mock the drought of my

Throat, Reservoirs dribble…

For My body is a gathering

Of harvests from the oncoming

Winter, the divining rod dust

Only Scent lingers, eternal pine

 

I look to the snow, Taste

The season, a melted past of

Garnished greens, grays, and suns

 

Hearty robin, ever alive, steam

Floating from her beak, Nest

Built of water, sticks, and mud

Her Feathers, wisdom’s movement

Lay upon my words, a slow worm

Snagged from frosty grass

Scrawled black upon the field

Desert letters made of tree knot

 

Symbols smeared / slants of rain

The blue, blue liquid cleanses

Meaning, shot out of innards

The words, worms always

Cut in two, the clay I am

 

My eyes, lids nearly glued shut

Begging for preservatives

Or the relieving thought of

A connection to moisture

That will keep words moving

My wet hand through dirt.

Pain rides up between thumb

Finger, Palm and Lifeline.

My arm is silent, swollen.

 

 

 

Language is oil now, dug

Dug, deep under my nails

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17 Responses to Word Knots

  1. calensariel says:

    “…a melted past of Garnished greens, grays, and suns…” LOVED this!

    Like

  2. I love this:
    ‘My body is a gathering
    Of harvests from the oncoming
    Winter’
    Very nice!

    Like

  3. I love the alliteration

    Like

  4. Jeannie says:

    You write very well.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. mrsorenson says:

    It is gluttony! and beyond humanity like an aura. Thanks.

    Like

  6. vivachange77 says:

    Beginning with the striking picture of the knot this drew me in. I love.” Language is oil now dug deep ..under my nails.” Your extended metaphor and the images are wonder – ful.

    Like

  7. An ethereal poem (for me) about the nature of language and the language of nature, wonderfully strange at times – reminds me somewhat stylistically of the San Francisco Renaissance, somewhere between modernist and postmodern. Very engaging!

    Like

  8. sableswan says:

    Stunning!!! Gorgeous inagery…

    Like

  9. Katherine says:

    This is my kind of poem, it brings me back to that Paleolithic, primal earth-awareness that is so easy to lose. And thanks for the follow!

    Liked by 1 person

  10. I am sitting here listening to the last breaths of my father and I am re-reading much of your poetry. What a beautiful way with words you have and thank you for keeping me company during my vigil.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Elan Mudrow says:

      This is probably the most important message I have received since starting this blog. Thanks so much Connie. Its timing couldn’t have been more perfect, as I moved my computer outside my backdoor to listen and feel the breaths of the wind, which is helping me with another poem. I just saw a hummingbird attempt to get a late meal.

      Like

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