Grey Haibun for d’Verse

Night regurgitates day in images that ride their REM waves, waves that slap the hard beach repetitively, incessantly, omnipresent in the fog of sleep and in the spaces between the incidental, accidental thoughts that drift by during timeouts in the day.  Like now.

 

Endless road ahead

Moonlight summons old spirits

The Earth a cocoon

 

 

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
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27 Responses to Grey Haibun for d’Verse

  1. Frank Hubeny says:

    I like the idea of the Earth being a cocoon and the night regurgitating.

    Like

  2. rothpoetry says:

    Interesting how the earth is a cocoon. Waiting for the butterflies to rise!
    Dwight

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I thought this particularly insightful and points to a condition of life we all live but do not acknowledge often. Thanks for the courage to say what you did. I agree the metaphor of the butterfly is a bit flimsy, in fact, a cliche.

    Like

  4. Yes, the earth a cocoon, a purgatory itself, where we don’t even know the brilliance of colors yet.

    Like

  5. Sometimes the tones of grey have more depth than flashy distracting colours. I do like this musing on the wave-like repetitive pounding of thoughts, all silvery night time grey.

    Like

  6. Beverly Crawford says:

    I love the phrase “moonlight summons old spirits”. Also “accidental thoughts that drift by during timeouts”. You have a magical way with phrases, Nan. Bravo

    FROM NAN” I’ve done something wrong and this is my “Reply”:
    Now I wish I’d said “old souls.” I really appreciate the “Bravo!”, Beverly!

    Like

  7. I really liked the rhythm of this poem and the juxtaposition of moonlight, spirits and the cocoon is fabulous.

    From Nan: I fear I have lost my “Reply” rectangle. Know that I appreciate your comment, Paul!

    Like

  8. This is a stunning piece… and i feel a great appreciation for grey, the way you tie it to night and the importance of the dreams is great.

    Like

  9. Moonlight summons old spirits… it sure does. Here’s to moonshine. I liked your take on the prompt, the night time/ sleepy time ruminations on the day. Cool.

    Like

  10. Singledust says:

    I love your haiku, it speaks of old magic exerting its power over a new journey of life.

    Like

  11. I really like this, and I think you are right we almost relive the day in our sleep whatever joys or hardships we faced.

    Like

  12. Mish says:

    Oh you had my attention from the very start…”Night regurgitates day in images”. Powerful imagery. It makes me think about my mom who suffers from a sleep disorder. She describes it as a movie reel of the past that plays when all she wants to do is sleep.
    A beautiful haibun and stunning haiku, Nan. Always a pleasure to read your work. Sorry for my delayed response.
    ~Mish~

    Like

  13. Nan Mykel says:

    I’m so appreciative of your words! Thank you.

    Like

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