Monday, November 7, 2011

Gold Dust Woman

Soooo,
every year, my good friends Michael Nolan, Easy Bee and Sean M. Whelan put on a show called Liner Notes. They get a famous album, give writers of all different descriptions a song each to write spoken word responses to and then get them to perform the pieces to an adoring crowd. It's always an amazing night. The album this time was Fleetwood Mac- Rumours. The song I got was Gold Dust Woman. I wrote this a while back so some of the lines have popped up in newer poems but I got a few requests to put the piece up so here. We. GO!

GOLD DUST WOMAN

Gold dust woman, white powder dreams,
silver spoon nightmares, red neon beams,
blue smoke plumes, black fire hair,
I saw bright worlds in your crystalline stare.

But nevertheless, I asked you,
can we stay like this forever?
like this
weighed down by each other's fingerprints and
garlands of kisses
that you hang on my eyelids
like this
plummeting through wells of wistful nights
making love under the manifold lights of weeping suns and whirling moons,
halogen bulbs, neon billboards and blacklit rooms,
like this
in febrile bedsheets bloom fire and steam swoon perspired droplets afire and soon
hair inkspreads on pillowcases from Sydney to California.
like this, where I worship in awe
that spot on your collarbone scented like driven snow and arctic ice
and we unite from shaking flesh, pinned limbs, swimming linen to the tremulous core.

You called me amor, love and corazon, heart,

And it seemed that like this would last forever

But then time tripped and forever flipped into one single moment,
one phrase of time that couldn't last
and
I saw you smile a slow knowing smile
and I knew you knew
the truth of me
that I would love you forever, even when we weren't together,
I would dance with you on palpitating skylines that beat like a dying heart or tribal drum.

That night, I didn't realise it would be the last time you lead me by the wrist to a bed of nails,
I sweated hail,
read in braille the secret messages you left in the opal scars on me,
a cursive of the wounds of love,
for the last time I set sail on the diamond lake
backflipped into the icy crevasse
with my mistress, my princess, my temptress
temperature went way down and then you were gone.

I couldn't eat, I stopped rhyming,
I vomited comets, black onyx and black diamonds

I went running and shaking through the city
heart drumming and breaking,
draped in flames, like a screaming beserker,
swelling and shaking
shook and shattered like shards of ice
and scattered like cards and dice
into pieces on the asphalt.

Because love like addiction like war,
can be over and not over, you can simultaneously survive and not survive,

so now I roam so alone, in obscure and remote reaches,
left to pick up the pieces
and go home.

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