Hate Mail to my Muse

Posted in Poetry with tags , on April 2, 2012 by elainewatt

You give me the beat of mustang hooves racing across the plain, while the sky and clouds’ argument resolves into rain.

All this in an instant switches to a color-enhanced Andronicos food store, jars of dill and sweet pickles lining the shelves, Walt Whitman rubbing his beard by the cacao, traveler’s check in hand.

What am I supposed to do with this juxtaposition of chaos?  I am like a long-necked heron fishing in the pale blue water of a drainage ditch while the mud-flats of the bay lie just across the highway.

You hold out a series of jewels, brilliant and just out of reach.  Then laughing, pull back, toss me the cuteness of a kitten touching noses with a fawn.

An authentic experience?  Sure, but when the rubber hits the road, everything tumbles back into cliché, the childhood catechism learned over breakfasts of biscuits and red-eyed gravy.

I want the weight of a backpack filled with clanky noise – backhoes growling in competition with howler monkeys.

I long to gnaw, chew, and claw my way into the dung-stench of your lion’s den.  You deny it?  Claim to have a boudoir of red satin sheets and white down comforters.  Ha!  At best you live in a ramshackle barn, withered corn husks underfoot, pure abstraction in a galvanized bucket.

You think I love you?  I don’t.  I am tied to you.  Prometheus on the rock.  You make me incinerate my soul for you just to taste that one glistening orange drop of freedom.

To take you as a demon lover is to sleep with a scorpion’s nest under my bed.  There is no end to the battle.  I give up all, become a hermit, restrict my life, just to stay embroiled with you, David and Goliath, but where is my sling?

Give me stillpoint.  At night, when the stars murmur their songs, let me sing in their language.  I want to understand the slow undulation of a gray whale in the deep ocean, navigating the currents, and the whispers of the tide.

You think I’ll settle for being frozen in this layer of glacial peat and ice, a gorse bush prickling my cheek?  You think I won’t keep trying to squeeze out the one true and unique sentence that I will regard as the syrup from the belly of, you, the beast?

Will it be sweet?  No.  Toxic as hell.  Stinking like burnt Brussells sprouts, but singing with the love of the mystery, that singular trapezoid of chance, that heartfelt pump of blood upon seizing the perfect spiral sea shell by the growling waves, pink and strawberry red, glittering in the sun.


Posted in Poetry with tags , on December 12, 2011 by redshoes3

He watched with a raptor’s

perverse ease.

Confident in the  quiet.

Fueled by extravagant loneliness,

a trance-like intuition

graced his movement.

Lost in the midnight of loving

that grew like a thorn bush.

A prickly bower over the undefended grace

of frail and brittle emotion.

In the throbbing dusk,

the hunters’ time,

layers of dark curiosity.

tenderness and mercy held hands

like mourners, alert and dismally lost.


Posted in Poetry with tags , on December 12, 2011 by redshoes3

Bone gardens of the Mekong delta

thigh bones embraced by seaweed turning,

bones of children turning thru tides

of the blood stained mother of rivers.

Nourishing rice along the river’s path.

Land remembers

politicians forget,

jungle remembers.

Buddha mountain tangled with monkeys,

spider webs glisten with sweat of soldiers long at rest

and a generation of holy children turned away.

Stealing Second

Posted in Poetry with tags , on December 12, 2011 by redshoes3

Dirty jeans, bare feet,

scarred knees and elbows.

Smelling like horse and Juicy fruit.

Scrappy and unruly

Jerked, without mercy

from the narcissus blooming time

of childhood.

Into the cruel duty of moons,

blood and sacrifice.

Somewhere between second and third base,

I noticed the dark, smiling eyes

of Tommy Bryant.

The runner faltered,missed a step,

and slipped over the edge.

“You’re out”!

echoed across the diamond bright afternoon.

Tantrum of a Season

Posted in Poetry with tags , on December 12, 2011 by redshoes3

Nights when city dogs, pampered pets,

ride the full moon and sing themselves into wolves.

Nights of careless moody wind, mindless of what goes flying on  wild wings,

and where it falls.

Restless nights when the bed is half empty.

Sheets wind themselves into snakes,

pillows slither under the bed to hide.

The moon hangs like a yella dog,

half-starved, lost and lonesome.

Stars tumble, witless out of their delusional order.

Cygnus crowned by Mars,

Scorpio satiated on the fingers of Venus.

Dreams so darkly dangerous,

a shadow of trance is favored.

Coherence of urgent joy

knotted by Medusa into nightmares.

Black thoughts blown into cobwebbed corners

gather a malignant glow

nourishing sleep spiders,

who dine on good intentions,

small lies and broken promises.

Sorrow makes a road for sickness.

rescue me

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on December 12, 2011 by redshoes3

Aluminum birds


winter weary travelers

to equatorial splendor

mastercard, a fickle foe.

Stolen moments of warmth

paid for with summer sweat.

evening out

Posted in Poetry with tags , on December 12, 2011 by redshoes3

When I go out in the evening,

i pinch the sparkle from sunsets star,

brush my lips with dawn’s light.

My face is bathed with dew,

a cloud my wrap,

deep evening my gown

I dance with heroes and amazons to music of the spheres

’til morning light’s release.

Equatorial winds combs my hair,

shape my ears like shell trumpets.

Celestial wind sculpts my form

to fit on a blue-green sphere unlike any other.

My bones are carved of mountains

skin stolen from tulips carelessly blown into an abandoned courtyard.

Entropy will choose the day I die

and I will leave no footprints.