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The cold rain of puzzles


She was breaking glass puzzle pieces

heaving them over the bridge down through the iced wind
only to crash on frosted river rocks

The tiny shards rolled brightly with the current
Irritating gills and inciting strobe light dreams
just bits and pieces in and out
across the tiny mind of a carp
A koi
a catfish

Dreams on the edge of a sunlit pool

While fairies take turns jumping hoops of fire falling in succession from the core of the sun

Like smoke rings
Like apple rings
Enveloping her
The bridge
The river
The tired fish

Opening like theater curtains
Closing in slow motion
Like the mustached mouth of a mossy river fish

About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

11 responses »

  1. Like the muse in my mind and all the questions I don’t ask him since the first and only one; how do you know all this – redundant. And still (and yet) I fiddle with this bedside keyboard, running away from and into everything: use the dash or the tilde? Longing for an em. Ha! And then, wondering one m or two?

  2. Loved that “mustached mouth of a mossy river fish”. 🙂 And the whole poem took me away to another world. I like how your poems do that for me. Thank you!

  3. And, too, thank you for this. I’m in the middle of something I don’t understand … and suddenly with this, I see myself as this one, busy once again heaving … and for maybe the first time seeing how this distresses others. 😦 I receive gifts like this and rarely realize what it cost the giver. Somehow I will stop breaking. Somehow I will begin holding and laying down. I know that somehow, someway, anything is better than the way I been doing / not doing it.

    • Sorry to hear that you relate to the woman on the bridge.
      You don’t have to keep all the pieces but you are right to worry about the fallout.
      Even so,
      it’s better to chuck pieces than to jump down onto those frosty rocks.
      Better still to jump the hoops of fire with the fairies 🙂

  4. haha what is the snowflake-like thing in the image~~~? may i ask?

    yes you are right… i love that picture of fairies jumping over the fire loops… they do… how much persistence and love inside do we need to keep jumping~

    and the curtain did open like the theater and the drama died out slowly… until she’s too tired… too tired to stand in the fog… where people can show up suddenly… where people can disappear suddenly… where people can get lost

    • The stars are the bits and pieces the fish breathe in(white)and out (black)
      Or just a distraction 🙂

      Interesting that you said “over ”
      That is exactly the image I was trying to convey.
      It is good to jump through hoops of fire but it seems much better to go over them.

      Curtains open close
      Fish mouth open close
      Hoops of fire open close
      Whirl them around in the fog

      Sailorstar Summer Makkke up!!!!!!

      I really enjoy your comments!

  5. i really love this poem… somehow touched my sad point


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