a nocturnal construction colony

[travu2]

A nocturnal construction colony sometimes
propagates along ancient pathways
worn through the air above the sleeping
neighborhoods, their frail museum
of hidden geometry and pale light.

In a slow flurry of gossamer
lace and exploratory scaffolding,
their moonlit froth meanders
with a weightless momentum,
and quickly dissipates.

Like dead cherubs falling
through the black depths of a lagoon,
a few little astronauts are floating
out into the quiet streets.

Between gray lawns, misty
with dew, they pass,
one by one,
through veils of electric light.

Creamy cement driveways,
covered boats and storm drains;
structure passing on either side
does not reflect purpose.
They move among ephemeral
shapes reflecting moonlight.

Nothing is moving, nothing listening,
as they slow to a stop.
Like a white spider sliding
along a silken thread, an astronaut
approaches her bedroom window

and enters an enclosed harbor
smothered with shadows, abandoned
vessels sprawling in the water; nothing
was there to hold them together.

Somewhere in that landscape
of dimming, hazy blue
was a trail of tiny footprints
now covered by the dunes.

They sense her, lonely in the darkness,
across the street from a low-lit cactus.
Near the warm surface of a wall,
they gather to watch the moon
bleaching out her likeness.

They see her on the horizon
in a barely visible glow:
Two mountains lay in the distance
like great mute whales
frozen in place, each forever
trying to reach the other
in the cold anonymity of night.

As they rise up into
the patient currents, to fade
out again, they see her
in the motion of a moth
suspended high in the air,
as her delicate reflection
shimmers across the ocean.

In a moonlit mountain meadow,
a few timid waves are slowly
dissolving every part of me.
My heart struggles beside me,
but she never saw it inside me.

--------------------
"Been waiting for the night to fall.
I knew that it would save us all.
Now everything's dark,
keeps us from the stark
reality."

Depeche Mode

[scatteroflight]

Originally posted by travu2:
their frail museum
of hidden geometry and pale light.

...

an enclosed harbor
smothered with shadows, abandoned
vessels sprawling in the water; nothing
was there to hold them together.

Somewhere in that landscape
of dimming, hazy blue
was a trail of tiny footprints
now covered by the dunes.

...

In a moonlit mountain meadow,
a few timid waves are slowly
dissolving every part of me.
My heart struggles beside me,
but she never saw it inside me.

My favourite bits, but I love this whole poem. I love how in your poems the same images and thoughts seem to recur, but they're all different and individual. You should collect them and call them "The Astronaut Cycle." You see things in a very unique way. The last two lines are heart-stopping. This poem shows what the power of suggestion, instead of direct statement, can do.

[scatteroflight]

Ok, I'm starting to sound like a total fan club here but I just have to say again how much I love this poem, plus I don't think enough people saw it The way the atmosphere builds just blows my mind. I feel like I'm following that little astronaut around, I get such vivid mental pictures from the imagery. And the last stanza just pulls out the ground from under my feet. Amazing. I printed off this poem to save it for the day when the entire Internet crashes and all the great poetry on this site is lost I have a feeling this poem will mean something to me for a long time.

I'll quit gushing now Sorry if I'm embarrassing you, Trav, I don't mean to--I just have to admire great art wherever I find it

------------------
Your earth moves beneath your own dream landscape

[This message has been edited by scatteroflight (edited 08-17-2001).]

[travu2]

Wow.. I don't know quite what to say. Well, as you know I'm very impressed by your poetry too, scatteroflight, and I'm glad that this forum is here so that we were able to "meet" each other and share our thoughts and feelings in the first place.

My, you're giving me a big head.
I always feel embarrassed and uneasy about posting something, but everyone is so kind here that it's hard not to get a positive response. Honestly though, I never expected the kind of response you have given me. It's a wonderful feeling knowing that someone is connecting with the things that you write, and reading your comments has given me a huge boost of self confidence.

Thank you.

[foray]

In a moonlit mountain meadow,
a few timid waves are slowly
dissolving every part of me.
My heart struggles beside me,
but she never saw it inside me.



This changes the entire poem. I like the transition from third to first person and yeah, the last few lines are semi-ambiguous and tie it up nicely.

foray

[scatteroflight]

Originally posted by travu2:
Honestly though, I never expected the kind of response you have given me

Probably not...I do get a bit carried away sometimes

But honestly, I love your poetry--I should have studied science instead of English, my poetry would be better I like most of the poetry I read here but some of it connects with me a lot more deeply than others, including yours. I really like indirect emotion in poetry, using imagery to get feelings and emotions across and it's a very tough thing to do, but it tends to stay with the reader longer than something less subtle.

Have you ever heard of P.K. Page? She is probably the best living poet in Canada, but it's not like people outside of Canada know a lot about Canadian poets She is one of my favourite poets and your poetry kind of reminds me of her. She is fascinated by things like prisms and glass and eyes and angles and peacocks and all sorts of things that she somehow connects in amazing ways. Anyway, if you're interested in reading some great poetry she's an amazing poet. She actually lives in a suburb of my home town and I got to see her read at a local pub some time back. I asked her to read a favourite poem of mine and she obliged, it was great

I think someone else better post something so I can get distracted and quit embarrassing travu2

------------------
Time is a train
Makes the future the past
Leaves you standing in the station
Your face pressed up against the glass

[This message has been edited by scatteroflight (edited 08-19-2001).]

[hermes]

The poem was quite good, I enjoyed it a lot

------------------
Steve
SAME OLD STORY- Hardcore American Comedy