Monthly Archives: April 2015

Step Into the Frame

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Perched at familiarity’s frontier
An Octopus eye blinks
Future reflections shimmer
Against a shoreline’s now
Ambiguity costumed in tentacles
Senses a glass opening
Where an infinity of points
Dance along the arc of a finite line.

© Lori Fleming, 2015

In honor of stepping out of one frame and into the next.

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Remembering ~ A Glosa

An Anoura geoffroyi bat pollinating a Meriania blossom.  Photo Credit: Nathan Muchhala, University of Toronto.

An Anoura geoffroyi bat pollinating a Meriania blossom. Photo Credit: Nathan Muchhala, University of Toronto.

The treasurer who would betray his will
incensed us all; we rubbed each other raw
until the day a quarter of us saw
what he perceives. The vision haunts me still.”

~ Remembering
by Elaine Stirling, 2015

Years ago a bold, midnight blue invitation arrived
words calligraphied in moony hues –
presence, it seems, requested.
It was to be a nocturnal drama series, metaphors,
staged and updated at an inner amphitheater
where bats excrete their fruity feast remains, steady seed spill
a propagation, guano for futures
dependent on digestion’s expression.

The dreamy invite had promised, “Your aha’s are sure to thrill.”
The treasurer, who would betray his will,

avidly pursued value, his Rumplestiltskin-ian
style suggesting metaphor’s hidden identities,
once named, could be bartered for inner child’s freedom.

This Shadow School’s play has run many seasons,
its celebrity cast star nightly. They are UN members
of personhood’s nation, the judgmental bourgeois
heroic figureheads, gutless milktoasts
earnest mothers, and sensuous stars.
Circular scenes have provoked endless guffaws,
incensed us all; we rubbed each other raw

on multiple occasions, yet even sore and blistered,
perfection has been recognized, even cohered in love.

Now, as updated dramas are staged
night after night, a yeasty idea has been rising,
to find the steed whose DNA string
weaves, whether in benefit or flaw,
through personal’s tapestry.

The idea rose steadily into reality.
Adventure and openings seemed the law
until the day a quarter of us saw

a vision of how the father, of the father sought,
was a bat from South America – randomly dropping
his fruity seed through Ambato, Paris, Spain –
all while pollinating landscapes of colorful stalks
and ponds, uncaring of clocks and bonds.
T’is an ill-conceived crop flowed from his quill.

And now I dream as a bee, chasing an ancient bat,
buzzing his mortal midnight blue dramas
while my own Shadow School plays, begging I distill
what he perceives. The vision haunts me still.

Lori Fleming, 2015

I’d like to express gratitude for the strength of the second stanza from Elaine Stirling’s poem “Remembering“, around which I have wrapped all manner of inspirations using the Glosa poetic form.  Inspired notes range from dream work, to how that practice spurs and processes the search and exploratory journey that has me traveling far beyond one generation to identify a biological patriarch.