A Brief History of Edges
This road leads nowhere. I live at its end where breezes
wilt and the sun still burns my darkened skin.
I’ve sailed to Oman, but have never seen the Dakotas.
My friend searches for the concealed parable in this truth.
An early clay map depicted Babylon surrounded by a bitter river,
and an island named the sun is hidden and nothing can be seen.
Fitting the limitless within boundaries, she remembers no one.
The lighted sign says boots, but I see books.
Venturing from the shadows, she offers an accord: intersecting borders,
we must retain ourselves, deliver what calls.
In our place between the hidden and the invisible, consider
that neon gas possesses neither color nor odor.
What lives in creases and at the periphery? The isle called beyond
the flight of birds has crumbled from the lower edge.
Where I stand defines my portion of the spherical earth.
Crossing lines, I look to the sky, its bisected clouds.
That’s really special. It’s so interesting how others capture thought and feeling, memories…..moments. I love your writing.
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You are very generous. Thank you.
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I am so completely enthralled – I’ve walked write into an adventure – a traveling epic that crosses time and distance and it leaves me lost, confused, found and questioning, literally on the edge, perhaps falling into some hidden shadow that will reveal something slightly less than real.
Stunning.
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Thank you. I’m often confused, teetering at the edge, and always full of questions. 🙂
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At the very least, this makes for great sensibilities and sensitivity.
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That’s all we can hope for.
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Stunning work ❤
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Thank you, Heather. Am very pleased you think so.
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This makes me think of one of my favorite books, China Miéville’s _The City and the City_ which depicts two cities that occupy the same space but the citizens of each city simply “unsee” each other and carry on completely unrelated lives. I have a feeling you might enjoy reading it, as a fellow seer of books where there are no books.
Also, the lines “What lives in creases and at the periphery? The isle called beyond / the flight of birds has crumbled from the lower edge” made my head ring like a bell. 🙂
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You’ll laugh when you hear the origin of this poem – my wife challenged me to write something using the makes of some of the vehicles (Dodge Dakota, Honda Accord, Chevy Venture, Dodge Neon) we’d owned over the years. I combined these with my interests in the peripheral, tossed in some biographical details, and let my mind wander… By the way, I’ve just ordered the Miéville book.
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I am laughing!! That is some everyday wizardry she sparked there — makes it all the greater. Happy reading!
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She’s quite good at that. And I can hardly wait to read the book.
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Good thing you never owned a Chevy Suburban. It would have taken the poem in the wrong direction!
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I think Robert could have found the peripheral even in the suburban. Which is…scary, now that I think of it…
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Then there was the Nissan ST pickup. Ha.
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I once owned a Chevy Chevette. Haven’t a clue what that would have become. 🙂
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😀
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Maps…always magical.
Who is the sculptor? (K)
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Maps are magical! I have no idea who the sculptor is – I found the photo on morguefile.com.
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great image anyway
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Excellent Robert! You worked the genesis of the poem into a work of art – crossing dimensions and provoking thought! Love it 🙂
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Thanks, Rob. I wrote this about three years ago, and it’s just been gathering dust ever since…
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Now free to fly! 🙂
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I’d forgotten about it. Glad I pulled it out.
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Magical! I love the artwork, as well.
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Thanks, Leslie. Morguefile.com has a little something for me everytime I g to them.
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Thanks!
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Great writing! Loved this!
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Thanks very much!
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I have met more people from Kazahkistan than from Kansas.
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Ha! Having once lived in Kansas, I can’t match that.
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Enjoyed this one- ~T~
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Thanks very much, Tom.
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https://uniqueharmoney.wordpress.com/2016/04/29/passionate-waves/
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🙂
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Love how the mind can take some mundane sourdough starter and turn it into baklava. Nice.
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Thanks, Jilanne. The mundane often helps open ourselves to different perspectives.
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Amazing writing, Robert. I’ve got little to say except each stanza seemed to involve the discovery of some tiny perfect thing that caused the entire vast darkness inside of me to turn in its sleep…
Michael
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Thank you, Michael. I’m glad it didn’t put you to sleep. 🙂
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Beautiful writing. Thanks for sharing this.
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You’re very kind. Thank you.
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Reblogged this on Ripple Poetry and commented:
Love visiting this blog.
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Thank you for reblogging, June. Much appreciated.
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Thanks for sharing your poetry Robert 😉
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Wow brilliant write-up. I wish I could make some too. Unfortunately no ones interested in my story. 😦
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Thanks for your kind comments. Don’t underestimate your writing. Keep at it!
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Hahaha, I hope I could be good as you are, thanks for the encouraging words anyway
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Wow nice use of words, that was a great thoughtful poem. Definitely brings the scene and visual thoughts through your writing!
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Thank you very much.
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