shells (fibonacci poem 112358)

1.

tornadoes
shells
perlescent, plus
old mollusk fossils
enter the realm of dreams
suddenly the sky (of mind) splits open, hurling eyes


2.

too spare, like poem anorexia

the idea of only one word in a line overandover.

instead i'll do it with stanzas, fibonacci my way
to something more spacious, curvaceous, generous.

in the trumpet of shell, the sea wind
blows this instrumentality to a new bell arch song
rippling along the tube cone curves, echoing outward.

if i knew there were swaying bellbottoms of bone
flaring forth in mermaid realms, that the honey tide would
turn to cement-castle clarities, now offered up on sand,
i would have asked the unicorns to bring home justice in their
tuba cases, or sea turtles to pattern nets from their shells.

instead, the ocean itself weaves seaweed into fibrile catchers
and the rain of nautilus, pearly pink vortices of song, avers the reign
of same size curlicues. Fibonacci is the name of the supple merfolk who
stretch every shell bell out with their meaty haunched tails.
They remind us to expand, every wider, just when we thought
we couldn't get any bigger, or our aspirations for tender empathy
love any more of this raucous planet. Their spiral shells remind us we
ARE that big, YES, and more, gripping our rainbow shine arcs as sails to deeper water.

What experiences

With Janice Sandeen


.

Curtains

drawn

before open

windows     beyond dawn:

consider our selves finely woven

iotas in the waft of unfixed and foregone

designs; we’re the lines among tesseract foldings. Each of us is a wall—

one sticky, critical wall—built to function within honeycombing complexities, convexities of inside-outside decision forks—spun, spanning, spinning and spawned—

“…experience awaits and awaits,  yet also passing us by, pondering us like the creatures we are. Experience having us, we are possessed by that which dawns on us, possessed in measure, great and small.”

Experience hears us wearing it, wears us as we hear it—here—where a line drawn is drawn like an inhalation;

and we might feel impelled like bees or undersea fan-handed barnacles,

how the atmosphere/ocean/emptiness—intimate in infinity—

visions, revises, calls and recalls

you and me,

hanging upon

any

sea.

Pre-Us

Pre-Us

1    Pre

1    Us

2    Dino   

2    -sauers

3    Immobile

3    Manquin

5    Pastel graffiti

5    Wheel -ed poetry

8    Incandescent flared fleece pant

8    Steel mounted pink hubcap rivets

13  After dinner leftover never spoken words

13  Bone carving thrown into tarpit ivory head first

IMUNURI prompt: Fibonacci

This week, write a poem with a Fibonacci element.

The Fibonacci sequence is a series of numbers that begins with 0 and 1. From there, each subsequent number is the sum of the two previous numbers.

So 0 + 1 = 1, 1 + 1 = 2, 2 + 1 = 3, 3 + 2 = 5...
and the series runs:
0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377...

The poem form generally called a "fib" (short for fibonacci) is a 6-line poem wherein the number of syllables in each line tie to the numbers in the Fibonacci series. Line 1 is 1 syllable. So is line 2, and lines 3 through 6 have 2, 3, 5 and 8 syllables respectively.

This week, you could write a fib, or you could apply the series in a number of other ways. At least 377 other ways.

You could apply the sequence to the number of words (instead of syllables) per line; or the number of lines per stanza.

You could also write in the subject or style of the spiral, like the one created by drawing circular arcs that connect the opposite corners of squares in a Fibonacci tiling as seen above.

Or you could simply fib.

keywords = fib, poem, your name