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A Chronology of Saturnalia

 

First

came the black, dark black so black

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to be a contradiction on timeless footing
lacking and indefinite.
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Second
came the sky.

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Third

came a whistle, the wind

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a band of rogue dangers arcing like welder's flame
specks of life alive in a shaft of light
so pure it squeaks.

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Fourth

came the day with the sun and the snow

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sea and sand choking on the bright blue wind,
birth? or mere conception.
"Everything is eventual."

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Fifth

came the Time, a winter of fun and denial

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darkness and light without alarms or bells,
just the snoring breath of the present. the future.

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Sixth

came the walls, the bridges

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what to choose what to choose

 

Seventh

came the sleep

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like rings around Saturn
black
sky
whistle and wind
specks in shafts of light
alarms and bells
mere conception?

Everything is perpetual.


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8/3/12
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M
ichael K. White & Dianna Stark


Notes on the Process

Mike: For me poems are immediate. Most of the time they emerge and all I have to do is stay out of their way. This started with some lines from Dianna. When I sat down I had no idea what was going to come out. I just remember being pleased with the result; like waking up to find a piece of candy on your bed table.
 
 

Dianna: Mike barely remembers how this poem came about.  Unfortunately, I don't remember much more than that.  I do, however, remember that the original poem was a really terrible, lofty ode to Saturn, full of obscure allusions to mythology and astronomy.  I blush as I think about it now; I am so embarrassed.  However, the skeleton was there, and some of the words and lines weren't garbage.  The lesson here is not to get too precious about your work.  Thank goodness we didn't, or it wouldn't be here!


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Same poets, different collaboration: Potted in BluePrintReview #27


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. .BluePrintReview - issue 30 - in/stance(s)
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