Monday, September 29, 2014

Jennifer Lagier- Three Poems & Photos

Chihuly Canoes
This is a voyage caught in the doldrums,
bright floats mounded inside a white row boat.
No sun or moon, blank black horizon.
Shrunken glass planets have been demoted,
dropped from cosmos to unmanned canoes,
float upon onyx, mingle with marbles.
Stacked spheres hatch fantastical tentacles,
lime green, cobalt blue, grasp infinity
within watchful darkness.

Chihuly Daisy Patch
Metallic daisies mingle with spiders.
Red claws splay, cup a curdled sky,
surround a silver dome seen in silhouette
as a passing monorail hums in a circle.
How crude our dreams--cartoon
machinery once cutting-edge fashion,
leftover artifacts of a futuristic world
now outdated, transcended.
Manufactured simplicity juts from
flower beds, abstract flora and fauna.
Robocop meets Rousseau;
artifice forms a fantastical garden.

Chihuly Undersea Vista
Scarlet kelp hangs from
a black velvet ceiling,
corrals yellow lily pads,
lime-green vegetation.
Blue and lavender tentacles
mime octopus and squid.
Faux anemones encircle
pink anchovies, violet jellyfish,
minimalist herons.
Two-toned seaweed ascends,
spirals to the apex
of cresting glass waves
where white spindrift spills,
orange coral flowers.

Jennifer Lagier was seduced by a serpent at an early age, transforming her into a Dead Snakes groupie.

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