Destiny

April's perfection

            breathing essence of strawberries
                        the maple showers me

a stream of samaras
            pirouetting on the breeze
                        they dance along the garden walk

then I encounter a crowd
            women knitting, embroidering  ̶  with children playing
                        and men discoursing the day’s events

I struggle to pass by
            the group surrounds me  ̶  squeezing closer
                        no gaps to move through

the chartreuse grass glistens   ̶   dew dressed

           Looking up, I see only trunks of trees
                        tight   forming a stockade

I look skyward to see a leafy canopy
            stretching high above
                        I seem to shrink

streams of light filter through leaves
            lifting me as though I were
                         a mote of dust

suspended in a dizzying rise
            my heart pounds   Feeling the rush
                       I ride a single beam

an eternity passes
            I am floating toward
                        infinite blueness

suddenly I see a vast shawl
            of iridescent lace
                        spread among the branches

exquisite in design
            jewels caught at the cross threads
                        at once I stick

my redness spreads
            I am my beating heart
                        a throbbing ruby

encased
            glittering by sun
                         glowing by moon

endless seasons pass
            I freeze pink
                        I melt cerise

one autumn
            as the foliage echoes
                        my crimson song

a cardinal
            plucks me from the web
                        and we fly free

Originally composed for the article on Beat poetry; however having second doubts about it filling the bill although it is rather surreal.

©  Gay Reiser Cannon * October 9, 2013

           All Rights Reserved

Surreal Night Out



Composite of Images in WikiCommons

I walked into a loft one night last week

and rode the elevator to a stop.

I saw a man and woman there afloat

above the floor. The man appeared to be

asleep, the lady held two large balloons.

A peaceful scene at first and then the room

began to change; a hologram would flash 

and stay before my eyes: a bird that flew

in cosmic sea; then Andy Warhol sneezed.

He turned a television on and I appeared

I spoke aloud about the unknown joys

Of Disney World, a flying, floating place

where we could all return to innocence.

The party guests began to come in twos

and ones and threes although the couple's feet

did not fall down regardless of how much 

they drank and drank; they drank and then they slept.

A swimming pool arrived quite late. It was

a gift from David Hockney's brush it seems.

Refreshing as could be; I couldn't stay

for Damien Hirst took my arm to leave.

(c) Gay Reiser Cannon 2011 * All Rights Reserved