Photograph by Reka Jellema. Copyright June 25, 2015
Blue China Plate
If you shook the earth, if
between cymbal and snare, you lifted her up,
grasped in both hands, maracas
in a band
you didn't know you'd joined,
how would she sound, s'pended 'tween
the deaf moon, a void
and a sun overreached with ambition?
The view of her from Saturn a blue
China plate flung
at the wall of space
and shattered, pieced
back together, cracks
crooning at every jolt,
an earth-lurch that crunched,
a sprung reverb chord
coiled and recoiled
called upon and recalled
Would the cool kids say
she sounded seismic? Jangly pop
or rock rattling the lithosphere?
And who would listen? Who would feel the rhythm
in capillaried secrets spread
beneath the soil? All the severed ears
would crawl like worms
suckled on cake dirt
dirt caked and iced and
sliced uneven into borders
bands of shaken brothers still
only following orders
By Reka Jellema and Brendan Bonsack
Copyright June 25, 2015
If you shook the earth, if
between cymbal and snare, you lifted her up,
grasped in both hands, maracas
in a band
you didn't know you'd joined,
how would she sound, s'pended 'tween
the deaf moon, a void
and a sun overreached with ambition?
The view of her from Saturn a blue
China plate flung
at the wall of space
and shattered, pieced
back together, cracks
crooning at every jolt,
an earth-lurch that crunched,
a sprung reverb chord
coiled and recoiled
called upon and recalled
Would the cool kids say
she sounded seismic? Jangly pop
or rock rattling the lithosphere?
And who would listen? Who would feel the rhythm
in capillaried secrets spread
beneath the soil? All the severed ears
would crawl like worms
suckled on cake dirt
dirt caked and iced and
sliced uneven into borders
bands of shaken brothers still
only following orders
By Reka Jellema and Brendan Bonsack
Copyright June 25, 2015
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