Unfolding
From the best lines one can construct a found poem only to entice reader (using the best bait) to find from where these morsels have been captured and gathered.
dry as dream-waterfrom Lyn King Walking into the Night Sky whose poems are paced very much like pulses she places in the figure of the travelogue body and its metaphorical comings and goings. One is tempted to uncrease, to rewind, and travel backwards.
Its last sound folds
into the origami air
Home hooks in our ribs
and hurts when we breathe
Home hooks in our ribsThe poems appear to have a sequence and then when read in reverse order seem to call again to the reader to the moment poised when a universe opens up from a slight stem of words. She has captivated us from the italicized proem which both invokes and describes: "Awake, what unfolds from earth / brown veins bleeding green is / called a tree". And many of the poems offer a migration as transformation and in most one finds some dendrological dream matter to condense into our own transmutations and to adopt via metaphor a peculiar way of seeing and sensing the world and words. Like leaves set free.
and hurts when we breathe
Its last sound folds
into the origami air
dry as dream-water
And so for day 1001
09.09.2009
