The Things Downstream

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Sat Oct 23, 2021 7:01 am

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Liminality says...

What else is there to rake
but leaves from the garden?
All year round, they fall --
let us not worry about autumn now.

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Table of Contents

1. Waiting with a Basket in October
2. Envisioning Pumpkin Pie
3. Once I Pointed at the Moon
4. Mood of Endings
5. The Wind
6. Unnecessary Force
7. Ragtime Runaway

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Sat Oct 23, 2021 3:41 pm

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Liminality says...

Waiting with a Basket in October

Endlessly rushing current,
on the river bank I, with a basket
have been waiting. For how long?
How long small and rattan
woven tightly clenching at its hollowness,
and my fingers over it, yet
the wet season here
and the autumn there
bring the same cool breeze.

Light on the supple water surface
moves like the fingerprints of ghosts --
maybe they'll swim.

Prompt: changing mood midway, changing the pronouns

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Sun Oct 24, 2021 3:07 am

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Liminality says...

Envisioning Pumpkin Pie

At the Japanese garden, shadows reflected the labyrinthine shapes of tree branches. Darkness embroidering bright grass with jade-coloured veins, too far away to touch. Would the shady spots feel cooler than the rest? The things you think about while the black coffee swivels.

I was envisioning pumpkin pie.
Wheaty, nutty crust, folding in on
what just -- must be -- a thick fortress
of fruit, mashed with a fork or spoon.
The picture melted into light cream,
then to brown sauces adorning light cream.

And in this dream, I flickered between
imagining the grainy sweetness of red bean,
and the saltiness of egg yolk filling.
(Would the sweet make a dessert,
and the eggs -- an odd curiousity?)
Slight movement of breeze in the city,
in imagination, we can taste multiplicity.

What is essential is whether
mooncakes and pumpkin pies
are the same chewy expression
of a year about to end. How we might
savour the messages we tell to ourselves --
four seasons.

The yellow leaves began to fall, one short shower carried by the wind. Remembering how fast they fled the air, I think about how there's time for baking when one has spent years watching the same garden from the balcony. Sunrise and sunset, washing in and out.

A crow caws in the distance.
I must say the old trees are
a stencil for the overflow of light.

Prompt: multiple emotions, food

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Mon Oct 25, 2021 1:58 am

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Liminality says...

Once I Pointed at the Moon

Looking down from the bridge,
fingers clenched around the wooden rail,
only a few wisps of silver
flicker on the surface
but the sound of gurgling and gushing
surrounds my head like a vortex.
The river reflecting the black sky is loud.

I thought I saw a hint of a crescent, white
in the sky, but, as it turns out
tonight is the harvest moon. Warm smell
of wet mud floats up from the river banks,
the heat of the day is gone.

Flanked by blue clouds, the pale gold moon
hangs in the air, glowing in silence.
My hand reaches back, my aching joints cold
on my left earlobe,
an old scar.

Prompt: real-life object, spooky superstition

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Tue Oct 26, 2021 2:05 pm

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Liminality says...

Mood of Endings

At eve, the trees are lit by hearth.

Did the forest crinkle as you walked?

The salmon shades, the amber haze.

Did a crow burst in its snorting laugh?

His feathers black, an eye of pearl.

Dry leaves.

Corn sheaves, or

ricefields

flooded.

Which one was it, could you tell?

Theshorterdaysthelongernights.

Blurring.

Theshiver-skinthehum -- within.

Which one was it, could you tell?

The ricefields blurring.

The corn sheaves flooded.

And water like a daydream.

Did you hear the crows in chuckle? Did you
watch the flowers hide?

Crinkle.

Snorting.

Burst.

And laugh.

Prompt: this poem has three speakers, like in ghost + guest, and whether or not they use caesurae switches throughout the poem. Mostly an experiment.

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Wed Oct 27, 2021 12:32 pm

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Liminality says...

The Wind

a wave of air
slides across
my skin and crashes
chilling deep within

a stream of breeze
runs down the hill
and whistles through
the lakeside thistles

a pool of voidness when
it leaves

the stagnancy in silence
floods in malignantly

Prompt: no punctuation where I usually have it + wind

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Thu Oct 28, 2021 1:21 pm

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Liminality says...

Unnecessary Force

Crumb of rust
between fingernail and flesh.
We stood on the steel bridge
over the gurgling river.

A leaf crinkled as it fell.
I heard you grind your foot,
mashing it into powder.

We were so used to scratching out poems
into the backs of concrete pavements.

Prompt: no sight descriptions + editing out the unnecessary

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Fri Oct 29, 2021 2:45 pm

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Liminality says...

Ragtime Runaway

Running a zig-zag between the autumn trees,
carrying a basket, I looked for the old house.
The apples petal-red, and rolling like a drum,
a frog leapt, a bird chirped,
a lounging spider jolted.

Sepia-coloured sky, cotton-budding clouds
making themselves comfortable, on the sun's descent.
A path of light brown dirt meandered mildly up ahead,
I slowed down to a jog, a crow flew,
bugs landed.

Prompt: Maple Leaf Rag + reading aloud multiple times

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