Wednesday, 18 July 2012

Thread


The streets are a tangle we cannot out run
Like a thread sewn too deeply
We are stuck
Our feet moving
Without feeling
Without thought
We have to reach that place
That place without a name
The one that we all hunt
The bag rubs my shoulder
The skin
Already broken
Makes my coat wet
Another black stain
On another black stain
I must be black inside
I think
don’t think don’t think
I carry what we need
Powder
Dust
Treasure
And dirt
As we move I pick up glass
Add it to the bag
I tend it in a way that I cannot tend myself
Held in hand
Washed in puddles
As if anything can be clean 
As if it matters
Why make this longer
don’t think don’t think
Glass and powder
That’s what we need
The powder wrapped in food bags
Dried out on the glass
Kept in the shade
So as not to taint
As if anything can be untainted 
A sweet minute
A sweet minute where the powder cakes the glass like toffee apple
Crunch
A sweet minute
Which untangles the streets
Pulls out the thread
Softens our feet
Brings us to that place
The one that we all hunt.

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27 comments:

  1. unfetteredbs18 July 2012 at 03:37

    love the progress and the action you have woven into this clever and crafty piece.
    (I like the words for this weeks challenge)

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  2. Old Egg18 July 2012 at 04:13

    Stain and dirt and dust with the mystery of life. So much to hurt so much to bear and so much to untangle. Your words once again so powerful, almost everyone a metaphor that tells a story by itself but they leave too before before we can understand.

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  3. Linda Jacobs18 July 2012 at 04:28

    You are,so wonderfully talented! I love your word combinations and the way everything has another layer and another layer.

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  4. Jae Rose18 July 2012 at 05:49

    Thank you unfettered..they were good words..seemed to fit naturally together..

    Think I leave before i understand too..thank you as ever..OldEgg

    Thank you Linda..grimy layers a plenty ;)

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  5. Dandelion Girl18 July 2012 at 06:31

    another snapshot of you outdoors, hunting, feral and again the black stain on your shoulder. A strong image. Moving and original as usual. A joy to read.

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  6. Unknown18 July 2012 at 06:45

    That last line is the bottom line. Powerful and simple and true. We all hunt, in our own way.

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  7. Laurie Kolp18 July 2012 at 06:46

    ...and there are many treasures in life.

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  8. Jae Rose18 July 2012 at 07:01

    Always did like feral kid..(in Mad Max)..thank you Dandelion Girl..

    Thank you Kim..it must be buried in our DNA..

    yes..thank you Laurie..

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  9. Sheilagh Lee18 July 2012 at 08:43

    the pain in these pieces never seizes to touch me and make me feel bad for the person this once was.
    You have such an exceptional ability to write pieces that make you think and feel so deeply.

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  10. joanne18 July 2012 at 09:36

    Not sure if I was reading about homelessness or drug addiction, or maybe it's just a lovely poem...

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  11. Daydreamertoo18 July 2012 at 09:38

    Being human makes us hunters, we are still animals and (if it came to the crunch) not so civillised after all.
    Seeing the powder and the use of it is a worry (to me) I hope this is all writing from the past and not what is happening now.
    As ever, your writing is such that we walk the walk with you, almost feel what you feel, see what you see and yet, we cannot know it all.
    Another gripping read Jae.

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  12. Jae Rose18 July 2012 at 10:32

    Thank you very much Sheilagh..

    Thank you Joanne maybe a mix of the first two..the third is very kind of you to say..

    Thank you Daydreamer..not so much really..civilised that is..if you were completely lost to powder it probably wouldn't make it to the 'page'..i hope at least..

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  13. Angel18 July 2012 at 12:10

    I can feel the pain even if I don't understand every image you create.

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  14. Alice Audrey18 July 2012 at 14:18

    But is it the same place, or do we just tell ourselves it is?

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  15. Ann (bunnygirl)18 July 2012 at 16:12

    I like this description of hunting in all the wrong places. We all do it, and in so many ways.

    The untangling must come from within, although temporary substitutes abound.

    Lovely writing, as always.

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  16. Anonymous18 July 2012 at 16:27

    a lovely poem :)

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  17. Jae Rose19 July 2012 at 03:35

    Thank you Angel..perhaps understanding isn't so important..

    Good point Alice - it's wrong to assume we are all looking for the same thing..

    Thank you Ann..inner untangling i am sure helps untangle the streets..it is strange how 'wrong' things seem so much more enticing..

    Thank you daydreamer dreams..

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  18. Mary19 July 2012 at 09:25

    Yes, the place we all hunt. I wonder if it is the same place for each who hunts. I wonder if we have walked past it many times and not recognized it.

    And, yes, it does seem sometimes that people tend other things more than they tend themselves. Not good really. We should tend to ourselves first.

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  19. Anonymous19 July 2012 at 13:04

    This is a beautiful piece Jae...I hope that the glass is reflection, one that you hold and clean and see in clearer light. I like the powder cakes and the toffee apple but, I have to wonder if it is the right type of sweet crunch. But, who is to really know what is 'right'. I'm glad that here are plenty of puddles to clean up in.

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  20. When Words Escape19 July 2012 at 17:37

    From the very beginning, the reference to "the streets" I saw someone living on the street...and as the character unfolded, I could see many of the characteristics of someone with mental health issues, drug addiction, even prostitution. Always search, but being stuck. SO well written.

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  21. Unknown19 July 2012 at 18:08

    I just read a few of yours. I like your writing. :-)

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  22. Sharp Little Pencil19 July 2012 at 23:11

    Jae, loved this. "Powder cakes the glass" is a distant memory for me... "We pick through the washed up junk; huddle over the silt," yes, this is the way we settle for less. But the final lines of your poem are lovely. Hopeful, coming to that place. Here's to finding it! Peace, Amy
    http://sharplittlepencil.com/2012/07/18/life-without-limits-sun-scribs-3ww/

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  23. Jae Rose20 July 2012 at 05:51

    I am sure we walk past what we need Mary..hopefully it will wait until we are ready to find it..thank you..

    Puddles are good for washing away troubles and trails..thank you Archna..

    Thank you very much Paula..stuck is exactly the word..

    Thanks Mary Ann..

    Thank you Amy..i am glad the end had something worth chasing..

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  24. Anonymous20 July 2012 at 08:28

    deep as an ocean. your poem reminds me of my life in new york
    city - a continual walk along the
    streets with others and every once in a while i'll find a piece of glass - that delicate soul to cherish.

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  25. Jae Rose20 July 2012 at 10:08

    Thank you Paige - and for following..i took a trip to New York in younger years..picked a big red apple for my breakfast from the nearest shop to my hotel..not really knowing what it meant..or where i was..but i remember it..it tasted good..

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  26. annell421 July 2012 at 05:13

    You speak of the search we all have. Though you do not use the word, again I think of sadness. When I think, I realize it is "sadness" that taints everything, a saddness that cannot be washed away in the puddles, never really clean.

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  27. Jae Rose21 July 2012 at 09:16

    sad lingers..funny you chose that word..but in a way reassuring that for once it comes from someone that knows me..a little at least..thank you Annell..

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