Monday, October 08, 2007

Dark Matter





*

You think it is one way. It isn't, though. It's an
amalgam, a concantenation. The carnation "Orion"
is one example. The going always more difficult
than it seems from the car,
the underbrush esp. can be wayward
and intricate.

A musical mathematics orchestrates the movement
of the stars. Meaning
remains elusive throughout. Dark matter
is in the end pages.


Dark matter is in the end pages.


Speech is discerned in the little movements
of atoms and loneliness
in the vast empty spaces between
sub-atomic particles.


*

It is mundane and glorious to behold.



*

Again, blessed to be here. Grateful. Humbled.
Itchy, anxious, headstrong, willful. Lost.
Did I mention anxious.

Dreamed last night of fishes. Rooms full
of aquariums gone to seed, gone wild. Cross
breedings and mutations and carnage and
wild sea-grasses choking the mechanisms
of the pumps and filters and everywhere
strange fish darting and gasping, their blood-red
gills flexing, eyeing me, their wayward master,
their reluctant and distracted god.

My daughter is like a bear-trap I keep sticking
my paw into. The steel jaws slam shut with a clank
on the bones of my wrist and I must chew through
my arm to get free. But there is no such thing
as free.

She remains impassive and aloof.


While tossing matches at the gas can.

While juggling chainsaws.

Egging on alligators.


She knows that she's the most dangerous one.




*

thank god for the yellow liferaft of my tender and stalwart spouse.



there is a tiny paddle and a small packet of chocolate cookies
in the red first aid kit.


*
between the swells if it is light
we catch glimpses of what might be land...



***

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

not to bonk heads with you regarding rearing children, but - What happens when two polocks try to hang a screen door?
They run out of plums?

Speaking of daughters teen ages the one way, I know
these times are dark, but remember
every shadow
no matter how dark
is threatened by morning light.

Have you considered that your daughter's behavior is a reflection of treatment elsewhere -- a shell shock tinnitus of sorts, maybe a taunting on the side line of meniere's?... perhaps the kids at school are calling her names, like freckle-face-strawberry behind her back, but she hears too much through the ringing?

These all suppositions mind you, just
food for thought..

for what it's worth

If I were you I'd just talk to her, find out the Y of it... this Y generation, the one of video cameras-they say unlike the yuppies breeds a lot of paranoia which I predict will only get worst if not nipped in the bud..
communication, why even the very lowest is allowed some say in the matter of their own priscription ._

best of wishes to you sir

5:41 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

a paddle, chocolate cookies - even better, the idea of a first aid kit. Another angle to this survival is keeping a piece of one's life that is apart from spouse, child, job ... at least that is my justification for the time I steal away for myself. Your writing shines as an example of keeping a part of yourself attentive to a larger perspective - at the very least, seeking it. Your work inspires - and makes me laugh out loud (as in your 'packing the gear' entry). Thanks Scott. mary

7:31 PM  
Blogger LKD said...

Is there light matter too?

Your daughter isn't the most dangerous (dangerousest--heh) one and she knows it.

Your daughter knows that the most dangerous one is the dark matter, the negative space in between her and you.

If you let it, if she lets it, it will grow as tall as Godzilla and as angry and lost as wounded as King Kong on top of the Empire state building.

I knew. My father knew.

I know.

I know.

10:20 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

dear indiana banana -
could you enlarge your photo -- I can't see it properly.

BTW. have you seen the movie " Lives of others'" It might be of use with the airport novel, though it is german with subtitles, there's missionaries, playwrights, the berlin wall, a dentist, an actress, hit&run stuff, a small type writer with red ribbon, and lots and lots of pinnings and suicides -- not to mention steaming envelopes!!!
Happy days for you John

Love and stuff
P.A. Trice

12:24 PM  

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