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.

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8 thoughts on “Remembering ~ A Glosa

  1. elainestirling

    Thank you so much for this, Lori! You have definitely merged the dreamer’s and the poet’s path with this glosa, and I’m thrilled that “Remembering” helped in pre-paving. Your piece has all the qualities of magical realism and narrative poetry, portending a bright new creative season. Brava!

    Reply
    1. Bridge2Vision Post author

      Gentle, carpeted pre-paving indeed. You’ve led me to a place where it felt like the tracks went from ruts in the road to new tar with fresh-painted lines. Thank you for such gracious, erudite, and insightful mentorship, Elaine. 🙂

      Reply
  2. Kerry O'Connor

    I find it most fascinating the way you have worked the lines of your quote into the body of your own poem.

    Reply

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