Word Knots

Posted on January 19, 2015 by Elan Mudrow

17 Comments

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

17 Comments on “Word Knots”

calensariel
January 19, 2015

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

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Elan Mudrow
January 19, 2015

Thanks!!

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thesarahdoughty
January 19, 2015

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

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Elan Mudrow
January 19, 2015

Thanks

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Incidental Scribe
January 19, 2015

I love the alliteration

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Jeannie
January 19, 2015

You write very well.

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katenich
January 20, 2015

Lovely!

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mrsorenson
January 20, 2015

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

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vivachange77
January 20, 2015

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.

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Elan Mudrow
January 20, 2015

Thanks

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Harry P. X. Frost
January 22, 2015

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!

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Elan Mudrow
January 22, 2015

Thanks so much.

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sableswan
January 24, 2015

Stunning!!! Gorgeous inagery…

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Elan Mudrow
January 24, 2015

Thanks

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Katherine
February 6, 2015

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!

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Connie Driscoll Miller
August 5, 2016

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.

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Elan Mudrow
August 5, 2016

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.

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