Monday, July 30, 2012

In Gelatinous Space

Of confitures sealing in the sweet
marmalade’s enduring quest for the conservancy
and the prompting of deliquesce—urging forth a fluctuation, setting still degrees of cogency—in thaw, until only trickling liquidity is left

It’s like the world’s been doused at first
and then drowned as its movement’s been rehearsed

And here, you find your entirety’s been smothered in pectin,
sluggishly plodding limbs throughout, the coagulating terrain
to which the self stirs silently about

Perspectives alter
as once steadfast points of view
diminish then dissolve, deteriorating
in the hesitancy you’re flailing within

Perspectives vary—from the numb to the decayed
stewards of thought, dream, surrender, then dream again,
seemingly all a part of something apportioned someplace that’s ever been above and beyond the ideals instilled by mortal hands

Ordnances are found, and in such hidden estates, we locate the
weaponry we’d forfeited many days ago

Preponderances accumulate in algid states
where what was deemed luxurious not long before
it stares you down, evangelizing the integral salience,
that’s always been deferred, yet never ceded its importance
to the very game you’ve claimed to, if not tame, then at least to have trained

Sludge, slag within coulees of expansive sight
oozing, seeping through scoria, basally encapsulating the prism’s light
arms, legs with their passions cooled
by embalmed gelatinous masks of glazing drook
ingratiating oneself to such confounded states of reality
wriggling, jiggling, writhing still, in a glistening sense of dream
porridge-like moments, inspiring deflation and its merry bands
of stagnant clans, coiling then collapsing, around, within, stifling drive and
breeding a yearning, for a solidity ever-after permanent in its stability

Bubbling becomes ever fixated upon the stories of escapade
dripping frozen space in timeless states of catatonic embrace
beyond the lips, chilling illustrations impart their never thawing
artistry—formed at the point of first gasp, forever indicating the escutcheons detailed embodiment of gelid finality  


  1. so should have put this at dverse for the prompt this weekend...your command of strange words is hard to beat...smiles...great flow throughout...and all is shifting sanf...or trying to stand on jello...and a firm moment might be well a comfort....smiles...

  2. Once more through the mud and the muck, your days off must have had you hit by a truck. Such wriggling and jiggling I would not do, as I'd probably, for real, break in two haha

  3. Sensations of being stuck in a gel matrix -- all actions slowed, difficult to move. A different way to portray being stuck. Not like anything grabbed or chained a person down but rather simply being in that entire matrix of it, completely.

    Very interesting.