The Daze Poem by Mary Ruefle
The Daze
It was one of those mornings the earth seemed
not to have had any rest at all, her face dour
and unrefreshed, no particular place-- subway,
park-- expressed sufficient interest in present circumstances
though flowers popped up and tokens
dropped down, deep in the turnstiles. And from
the dovecots nothing was released or killed.
No one seemed to mind, though everyone noticed.
If the alphabet died-- even the o collapsing, the l
a lance in its groin-- what of it? The question
'krispies, flakes or loops?'-- always an indicator of
attention-- took a turn for the worse, though crumpets
could still be successfully toasted: machines worked,
the idiom death warmed over was in use. By noon,
postage stamps were half their width and worth
but no one stopped licking. Neutrinos passed,
undetected. Corpulent clouds formed in the sky.
Tea was served at four. When the wind blew off a shingle
or two, like hairs, and the scalp of the house began
to howl, not a roofer nailed it down. That was that.
When the moon came out and glowed like a night light
loose in its socket, no one was captious, cautious or wise,
though the toes of a few behaved strangely in bed--
they peeped out of the blankets like insects' antennae,
then turned into periscopes scouting to see
if the daze that was morning had actually managed to doze.
I find it most unconventional and extraordinary.Beautiful piece of creation
So colorfully inventive. A jaunty ride to nowhere, each bump and jostle engagingly enjoyable.
loved the shifting movement of commonplace to insight rare imagery, in a day daze poem drifting through slumber morning half waking, a day semi sleep walking, to a potential night daze doze sleep seeking
Wonderful poem with captivating images. Very engaging!
Such a brilliant write, Mary... congrats for being chosen.....10++++
When the moon came out and glowed like a night light loose in its socket, no one was captious, cautious or wise, though the toes of a few behaved strangely in bed- Wow beautiful lines, so nicely penned. Thanks for sharing. 10+++
Reliving the events of the day or dreaming of what will come tomorrow..nice poem.. a ten..dreams do record and haunt..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/8/2024 12:12:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
In its socket! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.