some would call it makeshift

picture by mobius faith /used with permission

.

he had wings,
tattooed on his calves,
legs shaved, of course,
and it’s strange, the things

you remember
in the weirdest moments,
in that space,

there are no walls,
just drapes, not even with floral pattern,
plain white, falling
with the breeze, (but not too much as
they’re not really

fragile–) just
dividing (or connecting) lines and marks,
cold concrete base from sky,
& i’ve been flying,

everything or nothing, &
my husband,
with a rough voice says, close to my ear, “that’s
when you feel like you’re mine,
completely”, &

it’s wing patched sheets,
seeds sown in curbs, thick incense,
rising from the ground we
cannot see,

plain, open,
space for fantasy
and what we make it– nothing fix
or too predict

able, arrange, & re-arrange
until it fits or not,
both’s ok.

“Jimi Hendrix said that–”
“you should sleep”
“i know”

my eyes drift in their holes already,
“if you really–”
and you kiss
me somewhere
in that space, i’ve never been
so far, again, & all the slides

are shifting

.

the above pic is by Terry S. Amstutz, a.k.a. mobius faith who is our guest for poetics at dVerse today and has allowed us to write poems to a hand-picked  collection of his fantastic photos. pub doors will open at 3pm EST..

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49 responses to “some would call it makeshift

  1. Ah, I find this kind of shifting space a bit frightening actually, and enjoyed the husband’s protective voice, as it were. All of that seemed very real to me, in terms of fancy and relationships. K.

  2. Ah, it would be nice to live with no walls, I think, Claudia….no walls between people, no walls between countries…plain open space for fantasy and possibilities and connections and even the slides shifting wouldn’t matter and we could ALL fly using our winged tattoos!

  3. great imagery you start with the wings on legs…i love how you transition one thing to the next…the sheets are a cool approach, no doors…ther eis something free and open…again love the bit of intimacy with you and hubby…i know it was great to get home…and feel home…

  4. Once again you transport me into a dimension that only exists in your mind full of fantasy. I love the romance in this (makes me remember the mini-honey moons with my own hubby after a work separation), I love the path of freedom that you pave. Wonderful images. Beautiful write.

  5. ..”wing patched sheets, seeds sown in curbs, thick incense, rising from the ground we cannot see: ..I love how you’ve layered this, each scene moves seamlessly with only curtains that move with the breeze…a sense of freely floating with a smattering of images all throughout..but the main thread is the love that comes through….

  6. This one hums with jet lag and love, with fatigue & illusion, always a sensual filter, a sweet ride through your poetics. You never fail to deliver. Thanks, nice choice of image.

  7. Such passion. This bit seriously gave me chills:

    “there are no walls,
    just drapes, not even with floral pattern,
    plain white, falling
    with the breeze”

    Lovely take on the pic.

  8. Pingback: d’Verse bonanza « mobius faith imaging

  9. Dad told me of how he and my mother lived shortly after they were married, a little bungalow in a long string of bungalows, each bearing a fancy name on the signpost. He says that they weren’t fancy people, so his signpost was scrawled with a marker that said “goodnufforus”

    Truly enjoyed, claudia

  10. Lovely Claudia – there are some really lingering images here – I especially enjoyed this:

    it’s wing patched sheets,
    seeds sown in curbs, thick incense,
    rising from the ground we
    cannot see,

  11. “my eyes drift in their holes already,
    “if you really–”
    and you kiss
    me somewhere . . .”

    O, Claudia, that space, reshaped to fit you . . .
    delicious.

  12. really great response Claudia. Always fun to see how your style adapts to the photographs. This particular photo instantly reminded me of a warehouse I ran a job out of about 8 years ago. the dock door was broken and it was freezing outside, so when I complained to the owner about trying to get it fixed all he did was have one of his helpers drop off this huge roll of white plastic with a not where to find an industrial nail gun, which was completely useless seeing it had to be connected to concrete. But long story short, we got it up but every gust of wind would push the sheet in all these crazy directions. I was hoping to see someone use this piece. Glad it was you. Thanks

  13. I too prefer to see them as muslin curtains (drapes) and so I see where your poem came from … as ever you create a marvellous scene ~ ‘space for fantasy / and what we make it’ ~ gorgeous, Claudia ~ just lovely.

  14. Sometimes a person will feel their poem is the cxception to the same ole same ole…but this one actually is. I felt, for a moment, that it had gone astray, but reading it again..it was right, I just wasn’t moving fast enough for it.

  15. some would call it makeshift
    Hi! Claudia…

    “there are no walls,
    just drapes, not even with floral pattern,
    plain white, falling
    with the breeze, (but not too much as
    they’re not really

    fragile–) just
    dividing (or connecting) lines and marks,
    cold concrete base from sky,
    & i’ve been flying…”

    Once again, I “tipped toe[d”] upon your beautiful poetic words…That compliment the beautiful [copy@righted] image by…mobius faith.
    Thanks, for sharing…deedee 🙂

  16. It seems like a glimpse into your mind unmoored by tiredness and into your relationship with your husband at that open moment. Dreamy is the result but you take us along and I’m grateful.

  17. Yes, beautiful Claudia, I felt like I was drifting through the drapes listening to the words of fantasy being read to me in a whisper… I like.. very much