Dragonfly: Any of various large insects of the order Odonata or suborder Anisoptera, having a long slender body and two pairs of narrow, net-veined wings that are usually held outstretched while the insect is at rest. Also called regionally darner, darning needle, mosquito fly, mosquito hawk, needle, skeeter hawk.
Poetry: The art or work of a poet.
Prolixity: Excessive wordiness in speech or writing; longwindedness
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Jason Bredle, Young Poet Extraordinaire
I discovered the incredible poetry of Jason Bredle several years ago online and fell in love with several lines of this particular poem. You can guess, knowing me, that the word 'dragonfly' is in most of my favorite lines. But I love the raw intensity of his writing and how he seems to reinvent language, yet not so in a way that's undecipherable as some poetry is nowadays.
I say this often, but we must buy poetry and support other poets. I read an article last week that said that most poets, even the award winning ones, must have other jobs to survive. It's a shame. We need poetry. It's food for the spirit. It's the lifeblood of language.
Poetry is my own personal lifeline and my very heartbeat. Poetry is what keeps me tied to this earth, but at the same time, gives me wings to escape it.
Enjoy.
Blessings and Love,
~*~Marion~*~
The Idiot's Guide to Faking Your Own Death and Moving to Mexico
By Jason Bredle
Every few seconds I check the Bible
to see what Jesus is saying about me. The answer
is always nothing. Sometimes
he's condemning me to eternal damnation,
but usually nothing. Tonight I am alone,
wearing my sex shorts, adrift amongst
the black suburban pools of eternal damnation.
No, I have not been in love. Yes,
I have been in love. I am speaking the language
in which no and yes mean the same, in which
apricot and goodbye mean the same.
I am remembering the kudzu of the awful season,
sitting with you beside the swamp for the last
time and neither of us knowing it was the last
time but yes the glass was hello and dragonfly.
Was it a blessing? They say so in this language.
Others say this language is dying, or already
dead. I speak it, nonetheless, while eating
apricots in the evening of eternal damnation
where you yell at the map and cut your wrist
and there is a darkness here that I have only shared
with my cat, like that guy in the movie who writes
graphic erotica and goes crazy. One says
pain near the black pool of everything,
my back is covered with wax. Every few
seconds I check the Bible to see what Jesus
is saying about me. The answer is always nothing,
aside from the time he lambasted the outfit I wore
to the People's Choice Awards. A green tuxedo.
Tonight, I am adrift in the suburb of the black sky,
I am speaking the language in which love
and apricot mean the same, in which pool
and death mean the same. I said goodbye
in a suburb like this, years ago. I said
goodbye in a suburb like this, years ago.
According to Hercules, if we make an angel
out of ourselves, that is what we are; if we make
a devil out of ourselves, that too is what
we are. See, this is what I am getting at.
It is the awful season and I am speaking
the language in which violence and God mean
the same, in which blood and dragonfly mean
the same. I am in the orchard of eternity
picking the goodbyes of damnation, I am licking
your dragonfly blood and speaking the language
in which pain means hello. A black pool,
a green sky. That is to say, each moment
without you is a vacant airport, each moment
without you is a glass apricot. Every few seconds
I check the Bible to see what Jesus is saying
about me. The answer is always nothing. Except
today, it's a bunch of weird stuff about how
I'm falling into a black pool in some suburb,
maybe Palatine or something, and just like that,
I've gone forever. I know! That's what I thought
too. This is the story, but in this language, this
is not the story. I am eating red ice,
harvesting a field of knives. I am speaking
the language in which heaven and earth mean
the same, in which sky and white mean the same.
O Lord, I made this dragonfly for you. Even
if you do not listen to it, just know, this
is how I have always felt about you. And I
am possessed. And I am a fatalist. Do you see
these bruises? Do you see these bruises?
They are a sad bouquet. They are a beautiful
scrapbook. I am floating. I am in love.
I am dead. On a perfect night, my back is covered
with wax. O Violence, but I did not want this hello.
O Lord, I made this dragonfly for you.
Even if You do not listen to it, just know, I made it
only for you.
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10 comments:
I LOVE the example of his work that you posted. He is amazing!
Thanks, SJ, he blows me away, too! It's good to see you again!!! Hugz & Blessings!
Marion. This is really good stuff. Love this line-"I am eating red ice,
harvesting a field of knives" and yeah, ain't the money just rollin in? take care~rick
This is a very powerful poem, thank you for this introduction.
I agree, we need poetry, but it's not everyone's way of expression.
"I am speaking the language
in which no and yes mean the same, in which
apricot and goodbye mean the same."
i had several favorite lines and this was one. terrific poetry--it carried me along like the current in a fast moving stream.
marion, are we dealing with love and loss? you too?
how lovely cool and fun to share with oneanother! thank you, renee, for marion!
xo
marion, i have an invitation for you. please stop by when you have a chance.
:)
Beautiful, complex...rich... I love how poetry gives you wings. Not that for me yet, I am still stuck in novels and movies to escape reality, but working through the Carnival book in hopes...
You are a blessing Marion. I want to see your face.
Rick, I knew you'd like this one. It just resonates with pain, love and beauty. Love and Blessings, friend...
Polly, it's good to see you! Blessings!
Oh, KJ, I already had my house waiting for me to move in and couldn't wait to post it. I hope you come over to my place often! Glad you enjoyed the poem. I love your blogland house!
Annie, well, books give me much pleasure, but poetry is just my thing, my first love. I love movies, too, but not as much as reading. You're a blessing, too, Annie. I hope we can meet one day....
I am liking this man. I am liking his way with words and images to make so clear in my mind.I have not read him before, so thanking you.
SarahA, so HAPPY to see you again! You are very welcome. I've had this poem for years and was happy when I found it again to post. I'd forgotten how deeply his words affected me. I hope to get one of his book soon. Blessings!!
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