1. About the Dead Woman and Effervescence
The dead woman carries her water source deep within.
On some days, bubbles may mantle the surface of her inner peace, and rise.
Effervescence kept in check may be seen in a glimmer, or the way the corners
of her lips part, fractionally, when she smiles.
She is not a fan of ebullient personalities, or shows of excess joy, grief, humour,
all except anger, which she does very well.
The fermentation of discontent is kept quiet within the barrel of the rib-cage,
though a sudden spark may set the eye-stinging fumes alight, with nothing
but cinders to sweep up in the aftermath, and tears to wipe.
The dead woman reads poetry in the same way, she feels the immediate fizz of every
word upon her tongue, the language is a tumult of her soul.
2. More About the Dead Woman and Effervescence
The dead woman reads the spasms of passion like braille upon her skin.
She quickens to froth at the slightest touch.
A touch, a shudder, a shivery pulse which leaves the soft hair of the belly
standing on end, and all her bubbles will rise through lovely matter.
The intoxication of words spoken in the dark aerates the platelets of her blood,
and sings a bell-like note in her inner ear, pounding.
The dead woman is impetuous.
She becomes unbound, light as spindrift above the surf and spray and
salt crystals of sex.
And she writes poetry in the same way, with a vehemence of quivering,
and the turbulence of impatient need to set each word upon the page
before it dissolves in light.
Shay has asked us to share a favourite poem of our own on Fireblossom Friday. When no particular poem sprang to mind, I browsed through my archives and came across the several pieces I wrote based on Marvin Bell's 'Dead Man' poetry. I remember really enjoying this approach to writing: a collection of statements, observations in keeping with the Zen philosophy: "Live as if you are already dead." Hard to state that this specific poem stands as my favourite, but I felt a sense of accomplishment when writing the series, as if - for once - I knew what I was doing.
15 November 2013