nuage

I.
the suburbs gather
snowmen; star-long cumulus
cloaks of carbuncle blown aside.

a roadside dip
crusted with small
town hubcaps.

II.
farthest away is a pearl-
white corridor, ashen
undertones; a butcher
gropes around inside
a headless torso --

trisected on canvas.


Notes: my most recent attempt, mostly unrefined. would appreciate any and all feedback regarding tone, and um... make-sense-having. haha yes make-sense-having, is how I will state it forever more.

Edit:

nuage V1.01

suburban snowman - dead carbuncle heart
stunty arms blindly search the ground
for a discarded cloak.

I. dawn stride -

dripped into a roadside dip
crusted with small town
hubcaps.

forgone shells of star-
long cumulus.

II. bonfires at noon (evening) -

a pearl-white corridor
to move the moon. evening
wears a butcher's apron,
gropes around inside a
headless torso--
while you yet
sleep.

splayed out inside canvas,
dreams prop up the frozen
bits of home.

rip them out!
the suburbs gather snowmen, too weak
to sing and dance at close of day!

It has a surreal nature that seems to want to appeal to some sense under my skin, and it is a little disquieting. I also admit, I'm not really sure what it is about. But I can be quite dim, even on my best days.

haha, yea... yea. seems a bit dense in retrospect. basically, I want to affect two paintings as my small goal with this piece. those would be The North Wind and Sun by Milo Winter and Massacres of the Triumvirate by Antoine Caron.

I guess my second goal would be to twist those ideas into a surreal soup of defenestrated longing to the exclusion of everything else, so that one might be falling like he ought be.

so there's that, I'm glad you felt the ~surreal nature~, and maybe that disquiet is trying to tell you something tiger, maybe you need to throw three sheets to the wind and defenestrate?

metaphorically, of course

treagal, I love this piece! I felt that same disquiet/unease that tiger expressed, and felt it strongly. The two halves have an interesting interaction - I felt like part 2 was just a further stroll down the same winter road as part 1, which then leaves me with a feeling of utter helplessness: there is no shelter or warmth at the end of the journey, just meat and bone and defenestration..... i'm rambling

by the way, stanza II, I was going to say originally that it did make me call to mind a triptych like a description of an artwork; then I decided i was rambling too much, as usual. So...if you're trying to connect with art, I think you have already done that quite well.

I, Defenestrator; Let there be trisected windows, then.

kyle - I thank you for the smile. I must say that, ( as with most poetry, frankly ) my poetry tends to be just a shell in the beginning. with that said, I'll find a way to add some warmth to it eventually. also, I don't shy away from ramblers, I'm a rambling man myself... so any ramblings are cool by me.

tiger -up, up and away, my friend!
it's alright to know that my connection to art isn't trivialized by its rawness. makes the future of this poem easier to imagine, I wit.

Notes: a bit more added, stanza rearrangements, decided on just Nuage for the title, further clarity of just what it is I'm trying to say, working on integrating the suburban snowman theme throughout the piece, later I plan on anthropomorphizing times of day (hoorray!). any feedback is highly appreciated.

nuage

suburban snowman - dead carbuncle heart
stunty arms blindly search the ground
for a discarded cloak.

I. dawn stride -

dripped into a roadside dip
crusted with small town
hubcaps.

forgone shells of star-
long cumulus.

II. bonfires at noon (evening) -

a pearl-white corridor
to move the moon. evening
wears a butcher's apron,
gropes around inside a
headless torso--
while you yet
sleep.

splayed out inside canvas,
dreams prop up the frozen
bits of home.

rip them out!
the suburbs gather snowmen, too weak
to sing and dance at close of day!

T., I prefer the first version by a substantial margin.