Sunday, April 11, 2010

Poem 11: Bell Canyon, 1970

Thickets ago,
your silent body
dispensed the residue
of our last dry crackle.
On the slotted ground before us,
our bandied barbs 
lay flat and famished.
Through the dazed clouds,
I saw the gravity of
 comets stalling.

© 2010 by Kathryn Feigal. All rights reserved. 


  1. That's gracefully done.
    I especially dig the double visual.

  2. You said once that it took you a long time to write a poem and I can see the artistry that requires it.

    You don't just write the words on paper, you have a heartfelt relationship with each...

    I love your stuff!!

  3. This really packs a punch, as they say, Kass. I can't stop reading it.

  4. @Eryl: if you look at it, it can also be interpreted as a stop sign, and signs represent rules, and rules are made to be broken, so you don't have to stop!

  5. Love the combination of photo and words today .......

  6. i like your poem.

    but, i gotta say the eye on your side bar creeps me out.

  7. thanks for your visit to my page.

    and, about the eye...i usually just hold something over it while i read.

    also... wonderful photo.

  8. i'm floored. i love that last line. i can FEEL that.
    damn you're good.

  9. Each word combo plays in my mind as I slowly make my way through. How is that as carefully as I read, I find myself starting over the second I've finished, knowing I'll find more each time through. You are quite the wordsmyth!

  10. Very nicely done, Kass, once again. It makes me feel very low. It feels like the last days of the marriage, which was also in that season. " . . . our last dry crackle. . " Indeed.

  11. Boom,boom,boom. the images come line after line. And were only halfway through the month.

  12. ALESA - Thanks for noticing grace. I'm not sure I know what you mean about the double visual. The picture? the images in your mind relating to the interplay of the season and the fallen relationship? Love your stop sign comment to Eryl.

    P. J. - I do loves me some words. Glad you noticed their heart-i-ness. It usually takes me a lot longer to write a poem, but my OCD is kickng in to fulfill the need to write one a day. Eryl (here in comments) is doing the Read Write Poem challenge formally, which offers a prize and she is thinking of quitting. She follows very specific prompts and her poems are quite wonderful, but I can understand why the thought of 18 more poems is weighing on her.

    ERYL - Thanks. I read yours over and over too.

    HELEN - Thanks. It really was the picture that started it all.

    NANCY - Sorry about the eye - glad you like the poemophoty, though.

    STANDING - Glad you got it, even if it was in the gut. We've all had our partial comet rides.

    VICKY - That is quite the nicely-worded compliment. Thank you.

    LIMES - You know, the picture is of my good artist friend, Richard Murray, who I used to feature on my blog. We did take a hike in September, 1970 with several other friends, but we have never had a romantic relationship. I just like the picture and the images in suggests. All the heart-felt angst is very specific to several of my (other) intense relationships. Sorry to bring you down.

    TAG - Thanks, but I'm not sure I can keep it up.

  13. I was thinking of the verses themselves... Surely you've changed the formating since this morning?
    When I looked this morning the words formed a nice hexagon, which I took to represent a comet... Or a stop sign. I guess it was coincidental.

  14. ALESA - You're right. Sometimes I continue to edit and rewrite after I've posted, so the original was probably an unintentional hexagon.

  15. No, Girlfriend, I'm not down. Just musing. A lot of it is about Ex. Not sure why. Just the rhythm of things, I suppose. I went on a memorable hike in March, 1971. I wish a photo existed.

  16. LIMES - I thought "low" meant down....
    were you already there?

  17. I am showing a distinct lack of ability to properly express myself today. I've appeared an idiot all over the blogosphere. But at least I'm ending the day with a grin. Not sure if I was down or low or maybe both, but I'm not now.

  18. kass, pursuant to your reply to tag, i hope you keep going, for mostly selfish reasons. i'm in a very dry spell right now, and your marvelous writing reminds me of what's possible.

  19. love your poetry...and your capture.

    your insomnia photo has got me laughing...i had a bit of it myself last night.

    one love.

  20. The standout line for me in this piece is the first one. It reminded me of the Dylan Thomas poem 'A Grief Ago' simple because of how you both choose to measure time, not in hours and minutes, but in griefs and thickets, both very poetic. And I especially love the photo.

  21. STANDING - I'm hitting a wall lately too. Hope I can break through.

    SE'LAH - Sorry about the insomnia. Maybe you got it from looking at the gremlin-infested eye.

    JIM - Thanks for the link to A Grief Ago. Now there's a poem! I love how Dylan uses 'who' throughout the poem - ..."who was who I hold..."
    great stuff!

  22. "thickets ago" ... catchy ...

  23. Long ago, the delicate tangles of his hair
    covered the emptiness of my hand.

    (Would you like to hear it again?)


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