Escape from Eden, soaked in smoke
Whereby I stabbed my palm
with a pen in simply attempting
to put a lid on it—
for all of those moments
when one mutters, something’s
changed today, though I can’t
quite place just what
—would you remember
the moment you realized
all of the trembling beauty
of blueberry shrubs come sunrise traces
the world’s swoln soul, the frail
echoes of shale and shell bark swept
from the breast bone, splintering
tip of a cigarette splayed to a
frenzied cherry?
8 thoughts on "Escape from Eden, soaked in smoke"
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I think this is my favorite of your poems so far, Goldie. Your signature associative leaps and yet so focused and concise. Exquisite.
Thank you. I really like this one, too. I felt compelled to publish this more rather than two other things I’ve been picking at over the last few days because it felt particularly salient—to me, in my life, albeit everywhere maybe energetically. I can only attest to me, of course. Maybe it’s just the lovely weather in these green, swollen foothills.
That last stanza is perfection!
Thank you. I feel like the other two simply set that last one up, but it’s certainly the soul of it.
the title is invigorating. the bones and fruit in the lasts tanza make me dance
Thank you.
Exquisite!
Went from empathy over your palm (I did that in high school and still have the ink under my skin) to a grin in your middle stanza …
to being swept up in your end. In that colorful Goldie style that patchworks imagery and abstract with head-scratch stitches!
Love it. Love you. More, please!
Thank you.