Final Cut

Salvador Dalí, Composition for “Labyrinth,” 1947

i’m looking for something to trigger it
the vision of a scene that was wronged 
by the seizure of a violin, a stolen touch
like a carpenter’s hand discerning the 
contours of a naked jawbone, and a set of
feet that stormed a violent hallway
while the neck was half asleep

	if fortune had a shadow it would be 
	longer than a midnight gown or 
	the length of a woman wrapped 
	in silk and bedazzled like a 
		*pomegranate jewel*

{we are poets in numbers our eyes can’t comprehend}

in truth, it was the blue and white of it, the 
curb of the seaside that made my fingers 
ache for the trouble of a winding rope, 
an anchor at the basin of a free falling tree 
from which the sea claimed its rhythm

	as i climbed, the generations were 
	beating in my heart like a kettle drum
	and my conscience couldn’t contain 
		the silence
	let our fathers go
	the ends of our stories are the 
	square that binds the knots 
	of time like a recycled shadow
	our tongues are
	being strangled at the roots

{within each of us is the voice of a poet 
seeking a universal rhythm}

jackknife pollen down a 
slippery throat
in the flesh, in the strait, in the chamber, 
was an inverted navel, a maroon-bellied prisoner 
of the sun and a voice drowned in the 
echoes of children 
sleeping like carrots 
on the pillows of a neglected 

	{only our imaginations are free
	enough to invoke the gifts 
	of a silence beyond silence} 

This poem was inspired primarily by the Dalí painting above. It is also worth noting, however, that I’ve been experimenting with my methods of composition lately, and as part of a new poetic exercise, composed a number of these lines after listening to a reading of Jim Morrison’s poetry (to music by The Doors) on the album, An American Prayer. (If you’re a Morrison fan, very highly recommended.)



17 thoughts on “Final Cut

  1. Vous êtes toujours aussi surprenante et élégamment poétique, Melle TUL … Beaucoup plus que votre admiré Dalí, qui a dit un jour qu’il se considérait comme “un écrivain bien meilleur qu’un peintre”. On dit également qu’il était dyslexique et avait des difficultés avec le langage. Si tel était le cas, c’était un grand mérite de pouvoir exprimer ses rêves excentriques dans diverses œuvres littéraires. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Merci beaucoup. Je ne savais pas qu’il était pensé pour être dyslexique. Quel talent extraordinaire! J’ai hâte de lire deux textes autobiographiques bientôt: «La vie secrète de Salvador Dalí» et «Journal d’un génie». J’apprendrai certainement davantage. La capacité de transmettre des images en peinture comme en poésie est un cadeau phénoménal. It pleases me that you found this poem surprising. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

    2. Ha! I just saw this interview clip shared on another blog:

      Do you know what else? I think there is a semblance of truth in this for poets, too….I think I would be a bad artist if I were more “intellectual.” I have wondered this very thing myself, if there is a significant point at which intelligence and creativity diverge. That is, if one can be “too smart” (as in high IQ) to reach the heights of one’s creative potential… 🤔

      Liked by 1 person

  2. That’s an interesting reflection TUL, but I can’t give you my opinion right now. I’m tired, I’m just so tired, and like a soldier in a night war I’ll go now and seek a bed.

    Ps. I don’t want you to be angry with me for not give you a quick and grounded answer. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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