Sunday, October 6, 2019

My Whole Body



My whole body becomes chest and throat; October raises me, like a forest sliced and glued and soundboarded, to his neck. He will bring the wind, the last heat, and the sudden fall of night. Until this concert, I had always imagined my ghosts drifting in robes. I am varnished with a formula only necromancers and beetles know. Everyone says the instruments are electric now; we are cyborgs so that you won’t fear when the night breaks into inhuman traffic; we are all electric shifts, spots of shadow and cold. Or that is October. In his tuxedo and with those dark shoes polished so that I am looking at the limelight below...or a streetlight, beyond which the stars are blank and silent.

My whole body is chest and throat—you think he plays a special effect. A game of wires and electronics. A game of hunting for the soul in the buzz of a human house, humming to itself and letting its doors drift open. Like the game we play listening to the static of the stars, already turned between channels. Too much light pollution on the stage to see them in the midnight leather, they are only pieces of all of us, in the dust.

My whole body has become chest and throat and it is my voice that threads your nerves, plucks your stomach, and seems, almost, to form words in the goosebumps trailing beneath your formal attire. I sing in muscle. I linger in the drift of honey-crusted pine sap scraping across strings you’ll never quite see. I sing in the taste of the forest October remembers like an old score, long settled.

My whole body has become chest and throat. A song moans in the rafters.

Sharing today with The Sunday Muse and with Poets United, provided this passes their threshold for prose. :) I'm glad that October is here and I'm hoping that the rumors of a cool front next week will prove true.

-- Chrissa

18 comments:

  1. This is an arresting piece to read. I love the repeition of the lines about chest and throat, and especially love "I sing in the taste of the forest October remembers...." Gorgeous.

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  2. To be chest and throat... where the heart and voice resonate the deepest. I really like the interplay of the traditional instrument counter balanced with technology, authentic vs. synthesized one more real than the other, even if they both make sound.

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  3. I do love this... to me it can means so much, and there are so many layers but of course I see the Maestro the conductor and necromancer... there is something special that makes me think of those violinists who (it was said) had made a pact with the devil to play solo.

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  4. Amazing! I have to confess, reading your opening phrase and its repetitions, and taking the speaker (at first) to be human, I was tempted to ask, 'Got a nasty cold have you, dear?' (I am sinusy at present, and there are moments when I feel all chest and throat – not in a good way! But then, it was so l deliciously ominous, I had to re-read, and realised of course it is the instrument speaking. (You did include the picture as a clue, so I was a bit slow.) And October is the name of the sinister musician, disguising his necromancy behind electronics. Fascinating!

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  5. The repetition works wonderfully to bring forth the sound deep within this piece. So many wonderful lines. Heck, I can hear the groans trying to escape into the atmosphere.

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  6. I too love the repeating lines and many deep layers in this stunning piece of prose! The voice of the instument is surely hanting. I love this Chrissa!

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  7. This is delicious. You paint October in mysteriously clear ways, all feel(able) metaphors and windows into seeing more. I so enjoy the richness of the imagery. The phrase "I sing in muscle" made me pause, savor the sound and sight of it. October is alive through this words, in the flesh.

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  8. Beautifully written Chrissa and a delight to read. It is so good to see more of your writing these days.

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  9. What a well written piece of prose - very engaging

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  10. Like Rosemary, I was a little slow to realize that it was the instrument narrating your prose. This is so filled with amazing images (and sounds) of that deeply beautiful chest and throat.
    Gayle ~

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  11. Strong and engaging interpretation of the image Chrissa— well written.

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  12. I love the way you used October.

    "I linger in the drift of honey-crusted pine sap scraping across strings you’ll never quite see. I sing in the taste of the forest October remembers like an old score, long settled."

    Gorgeous, Chrissa!

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  13. I linger in the drift of honey-crusted pine sap scraping across strings you’ll never quite see. Your imagination and use of metaphors here is beautiful.

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  14. I love the personification of October as this mad musician who plays us all until we are dancing and shivering to their tune. Observing a bit of seasonal weather can be as moving as a musical performance.

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  15. Every cello tells a story. This one is beautifuuly written, Chrissa.

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  16. This is a beautiful piece! Between the repetition and the personification of October, I was transfixed!

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