Wednesday, April 30, 2003

RESCUE JOB

RESCUE JOB

Emerging from sheets of rain, the boy and I lift half-drowned ungrateful enemies who each stay in their corner in the bed of the truck. Luckily, the snakes and shrews haven’t yet heard the fable of the scorpion and the fox. There is the double aspect of the thing and its place: to make the invisible visible. However, all gods have their limits, even the rain gods.

The tide rises to bathe a full moon, dressed in clouds. He said the river will crest at midnight. The true poem emerges from the place of ultimate suffering, beginning and ending in water.

Only to go with the wrong wind at dawn and light breaking an egg over the world.

But we wade in too deep, and the water fills our boots. And when the scorpion gets to the other side of the river, he always stings the fox. That’s why the end begins with stinging words because it’s the nature of the beast. Only we can’t see the opposite shore because everything is river, river river.. Swept up by the coriolus effect, we’re swirling on a strange raft crowded with a flotsam of words.

5/03-9/03

RESCUE JOB, II is in the book My America, no title.





RESCUE OPERATION rev

Emerging from sheets of rain, three shrews violently shiver beneath an oak leaf umbrella. Garter snakes try to copulate with the yellow and red stripes of my rainboots and scorpions practice their crablike nature in the deeper water. To build an arc in the present tense, the boy and I lift half-drowned ungrateful enemies who each stay in their corner in the bed of the truck. Luckily, they haven’t yet heard the fable of the scorpion and the fox. Levi-Strauss believed in the double aspect of the thing and its place: to make the invisible visible. However, all gods have their limits. Is that why the truck bogs down in the mud? Even the birds are too wet to fly. The tide rises to bathe a full moon, dressed in clouds. Meanwhile, a Blackhawk rescue ’copter whips the laden skies, tests the pulse of air mattresses, windows, eardrums, the heart adrift. Someone said the river will crest at midnight. The poet said the true poem emerges from the place of ultimate suffering, beginning and ending in water. Only to go with the wrong wind at dawn and light breaking an egg over the world. But we wade in too deep, and the water fills our boots. Shrews prefer a solitary existence, and the snakes are the opportunists. And when the scorpion gets to the other side of the river, he always stings the fox. That’s why the end of the affair begins with stinging words because it’s the nature of the beast. Only we can’t see the opposite shore because everything is river, river river.. Swept up by the coriolus effect, we’re swirling on a strange raft crowded with a flotsam of words. 


RESCUE OPERATION
    from Simic prompts

Emerging from sheets of rain, a pod of shrews shiver beneath a leaf umbrella. Garter snakes try to copulate with the yellow stripes of my rainboots and I dream of scorpions practicing their crablike nature. To build an arc in the present tense, the boy and I lift half-drowned ungrateful enemies who each stay in their corner in the bed of the truck. Luckily, they haven’t yet heard the fable of the scorpion and the fox. Levi-Strauss believed in the double aspect of the thing and its place. To make the invisible visible. However, all gods have their limits. Is that why the truck bogs down in the mud? Even the birds are too wet to fly. The tide rises to bathe a full moon, dressed in clouds. Meanwhile, a Blackhawk rescue ’copter whips the laden sky, tests the pulse of air mattresses, windows, eardrums, the heart adrift. Someone said the river will crest at midnight. But we carefully measure half-lives, only to go with the wrong wind at dawn and light breaking like an egg over the world. The true poem emerges from the place of ultimate suffering, beginning and ending in water. Shrews prefer a solitary existence, and the snakes are the opportunists. And when the scorpion gets to the other side of the river, he stings the fox. That’s why the end of the affair always begins with poison words because it’s the nature of the beast. I get stuck in the coriolus effect, swirling on a raft crowded with strange words.

4/30/03
first draft


© 2003 Maureen Hurley, published in My America.Brandon Mise,  Blue Barnhouse Press, Asheville, North Carolina. More on Blue Barnhouse blog.

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