June 9th, 2010
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Late one night
as I wondered off alone
in a place I should not have been
I came across a skeleton
of a man long dead
but this skeleton moved
even danced
in a small spiked bird cage
that once long ago
must have been his prison
but was now his home.
– matt at shadow of iris
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February 5th, 2010
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They rushed to her
and they tried and stop her
but of course
it was too late
she had already started
her transformation;
it had started with her hands
each finger growing thinner
and more brittle
then spreading out into a net
of tiny tendrils, leafless branches;
we watched as her toes lengthened
and spread out
dipping into the earth
looking for moisture and nourishment
that was hard to find
in the broken and dry land;
underneath her large flowing dress
there had been
such a rumbling of movement
that it had been as if
small beings were right down there
between her legs, dancing
but it was only the lower half of her body
gradually changing into two solid trunks
then spreading out
into a pattern of tangled branches;
her dress
which still yet, hugged her waste so well
was now surly just wood beneath
soft silk over coarse bark
and for a reason none could understand
only her head remained
human and unchanged
and it leaned lifelessly to one side
her eyes having gone white
and her lips blue
as the last bit of her life
seeped out of her
and she became more and more
a spreading tree.
Her lover had come out
and he had watched her transformation
putting his hand on his chest
and leaning over in anguish;
he put the blame
entirely on himself
and as his jaw moved
the wind whispered
if only I’d had flesh
then you’d have never left me
yet still I’ll claim you
even if this
is all we’ll ever have;
he removed his skeletal head
and placed it down
at the base of the new tree
and after he was finished
the rest of his bones
slowly began to blow away
dust in the wind
and yet his skull remains
to this very day
at the base of that tree
and no one will dare move it.
– matt at shadow of iris
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[This poem was inspired by the work of Daniel Martin Diaz]
February 2nd, 2010
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Maybe she is an angel
maybe she is not
I’m just not sure
I’ve seen her now and then
walking through that slender passage
that exits out of the train station
the one where no one usually goes
because it’s fetid and smells foul
and is too dark,
the one where the water drips from the ceiling
drip drop, drip drop;
she’s always there with her little sheep
the one that has a face identical to her own –
skinless, bony, and hollow.
Moving downwards
toward a dream
that has lured me through a door
cozy and cream colored
enveloping me in softness and warmth
flesh pleasurably disintegrating
until there’s nothing left
but my own bones
deep, deep, down.
An audience of skeletons
that clap their hands and make
a scraping sound
like fingernails on a chalk board
ten times over;
and all the while
the clattering of their teeth
like a fly
buzzing around
in my left ear.
Why would you want
to be a skeleton, he said
that’s just stupid,
after all
who feels sorry for skeletons?
– matt at shadow of iris
skeletonsii
February 1st, 2010
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A rigid framework
that provides protection,
structure surrounded by skin
that encloses vital organs,
attachment points for muscles
that grant leverage;
source of
our own blood.
A long dark tunnel
with flashing green lights at the end
leading you to a large chamber –
an auditorium
where on a stage
a tall human skeleton dances,
the sound of bones on wood
clip clop, clip clop
a wild frenzied dance
hot and dry without sweat.
Both fused and individual bones
supplemented by
ligaments, tendons, cartilage;
a scaffold to support organs
protecting brain, lungs,
and heart.
You see strings;
this skeleton does not really dance
each move is the pull of a string
a clever shift here
an adroit sweep there
all done with skill and grace
by a hidden manipulator;
so you step closer to the stage
and follow the strings upward
into the shadows,
you see another skeleton
peering down at you
with empty eye sockets
that glow green.
– matt at shadow of iris
