If America is a battleship,

February 3, 2009 at 7:01 pm | Posted in prosepoemthingy, writing | 10 Comments
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Let me be an island, a lifeboat floating between Asia and Antarctica, said F, standing in front of a vast array of blinking lights, labelled in some strange language seemingly made of interrelated sounds like Centaurius blinking vaguely blue on the horizon, off chasing horses again,

You really have no idea do you, son, said the old man reaching for his hat. Perfect!  Put your left flipper on this here lever marked Morrison-Huxley Effect and pull.

Ha, you are so full of hot air, blowin’ straight off the Sirocco, empty breezes and silhouettes, riffs caught on a cold ‘trane to the cattleyards of Roma.

rifts like explosions pluming off the top of the Great Wave of Kanagawa, that tattoo they think is random done in real time. Haha, go chase those horses as the deck lurches and he launches.

Stop scratchin’ your arse son, he whispers, here she comes.

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  1. “If America is a battleship,/Let me be an island, a lifeboat floating between Asia and Antarctica”

    Where does it come from, Paul, and can I go there?
    I wish I knew where it came from, Bryan, but as far as I’m concerned you may go whereever you wish.

  2. i’d like a ticket also
    I’ll see what I can do.

  3. its like ‘cinematic breathing’, a world, more than what it is, where something like torn lace sleeves and old maps and a horizon goes inside the words and the selfs imagination eye textured surface, its hard to say what it does, set off a rambling, but its really cool. its indescribable or undescribabubble, gee n’yess. thank you
    Thankyou, your comments are jewels.

  4. I knew it rang a bell somewhere – that in the ring bell that tolls a spat in the offing…

    No man is an Iland, intire of itselfe; every man
    is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine;
    if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe
    is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as
    well as if a Manor of thy friends or of thine
    owne were; any mans death diminishes me,
    because I am involved in Mankinde;
    And therefore never send to know for whom
    the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.
    (MEDITATION XVII, John Donne )

    I send this as a compliment to your writing, Paul. And as an affirmation maybe? Hmmmm, yep.
    The Metaphysical Poets. Thanks for digging this out for me, Narnie. It is one of the greatest poems ever writ.

  5. Love the mall-like vast array of blinking lights associated with horses, surprise flippers and a boat lurching and launching. Such a delight of words and images.
    Thankyou, Ms Squirrel.

  6. arse scratching is SO 15 minutes ago 🙂
    Haha, whoops,

  7. You must be Reunion…Or Norfolk Island…

    This piece sums up space. As in, the huge ocean, relative movement, dimension, etc.

    Light and Sound.

    Or thats what I got.
    Cool, thanks, Crushed.

  8. I think I like that old man:)
    And I definitely like reading your stuff Po!
    I like reading your stuff too, Sherry!

  9. “ah, such vast, deep, artful versification deserves a few reads, at least,” he said, gleefully deboarding the Great American Phantom Ship, the S.S. George Dubbya…

    writing for fun, yes… reading for fun, heck yah!
    Heck yah, let’s do that Chico.

  10. Centaurius chasing horses, aye? empty breezes? Someone throw the lifeboat a lifejacket, please!

    Funny, and very well written.

    You know, the deceiving thing about your writing (in a unique good way) is that on first read it is a meandering creative piece that I get the gist of but walk away from feeling I’ve missed out on something. On second read, I realize that you often use deep and complex images or you are saying something pretty profound and I wonder how on earth I missed it during the first read. I think its because either I read you with my ears or because your linguistylistics has me focusing on the language and wordplay first and then everything else second (this is a compliment, I swear).
    Haha, no swearing here please, keep it clean. I think I understand the process you describe. It makes perfect sense. I’m particularly interested in this bit, “I wonder how on earth I missed it during the first read.” Perhaps you didn’t miss it, you just didn’t realise it. The second time you read it, it’s obvious because it’s already there secretly from the first time. Maybe, or not, linguistylistics is a fantabulous word. Thankyou, Harmonie.


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