only memory
leads me back to my past,
fatherly stones burn my feet,
these oceans will be extinct.
I’m pissed at God, but tell me who has not been,
and because I dream, my skull surfs in torrents
in the fed echinacea leaves, and scimitar tree-limbs
the red gut of the Atlantic, and the frozen fingers
of rock; summer smites, sandspit
dissects her dead
feelings from her feet to her head.
© 2021 Pseudopsychosis All Rights Reserved.
Originally published August 13th, 2021 in Edge of Humanity Magazine. Many thanks again to Joelcy Kay for accepting my work and publishing it in the magazine. It’s an absolute honor to have my work included there.
Excellent piece Lucy!
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Thank you so much!
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A short and intense poem! It has that cathartic effect when you go from ‘the frozen fingers of rock’ to ‘summer smites, sandspit dissects her dead feelings from her feet to her head.’ This poem reminded me of Robert Lowell’s ‘The Quaker Graveyard at Nantucket’. Very well-written!
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Aww, thank you, and surprisingly, I never heard of that poem. I’ll have to check it out sometime. 🙂
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Welcome, and do check out that poem!
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Love this, Lucy! Scimitar limbs indeed.
❤
David
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Thanks, David!
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Lucy, the imagery in this is brilliant! ❤️
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Thank you, Punam! ❤
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powerful lines Lucy! 👏👏
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Thank you!
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Your poems encapsulate so much, it’s like a heady wine
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Thank you so much. ❤
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💯♥️🤙🏼
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❤ ❤
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[…] Memories, Never Mine. […]
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congrats! You have a very descriptive flow of words 🙂
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Aww, thank you.
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most welcome 🙂
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Wonderful, Lucy. I especially love the whole of the second stanza, the red gut of the Atlantic, the summer that smites ❤
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Thank you, Sunra!
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