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GENESSA -- BLUE!
A Poem by the fictional Rosie Serafina, by Gail M Feldman
Once dreamed books, now dream mass media!
My grandfather took me to dinner
in a grand barn hung with faded tapestry and old expensive paintings
and stuffed with relatives his age, uncles of mine,
fat aunts, tables laid out as for a wedding, almost over
plates half-empty, ashes for garnishes,
dessert within reach. I ate whipped cream,
blissfully ignoring duty, 'til they introduced themselves
to me. I stared at a classic nude
on the far wall, surrounded by rugs and furniture.
I'll make grandfather happy, I said,
and shook their eager hands, smiled
and told whose girl I was.
Then there was an apartment where the rest
of the family waited. This was worse!
Crammed between two strangers on a sofa
I smelled old clothes and powder.
No one knew the years I knew; their own
were reruns. You -- media hero --
ran, distressed, from somewhere,
skidded to a stop just out of reach, in tears,
turned to bolt, but I grabbed your hand
as if you'd invited me -- we'd fool them! --
and got dragged into the small library,
where you flung books off their racks,
searching for the Incredible Hulk.
A cub rolled out; you rolled him back in
and fled in despair. The Hulk's in you! I said,
not calling after you, because there were books
and records all around. The Hulk's in you!
I'd hulked around all day,
trying on clothes for my mother, pretending
to be a daughter. The cub!
You should have comforted him,
all alone in a bookcase, a baby bear
among your fears.
Once dreamed art, now dream devastation:
apocalypse -- salvation.
The dusty stage was full of lines of actors,
among them you and me.
A circular ensemble, sullen and expecting nothing,
we wondered who we were, and who would write us,
when some real matters took sudden precedence.
A certain man -- not too old but tired,
a little shabby, a lot worried,
wanted to accept your solution.
You had a small hurt to offer, to offset
total destruction
at the turn of the next century.
You warned him it would hurt.
Never mind, he said; never mind,
let it hurt. You gently said
you weren't kidding.
He wanted your protection, so you shot your fist
into his stomach, struck his face,
breaking bones, and he couldn't believe it.
You held him so gently, and he couldn't believe
you'd injured him.
Everyone knew you'd done wrong.
Everyone knew you were a villain
but I knew you'd saved him. I knew
you'd hurt yourself. I knew his wounds would heal
and yours would not.
Once dreamed snakes, now dream internal injury.
I dreamed I was bleeding....
Once dreamed films, now dream puzzles,
nonconsecutive living, fragmented life,
experience rent from end to end.
Once I woke into your living room
into a time I recognized
as having long since passed,
when your favorite dogs were alive, your daughters
at home, your heart still whole, but I knew
I was older, elsewhen; I knew your pets
had died, your heart clogged and broken;
I was gone from your life.
I knew I'd be (have been) a child at school
and wonder how I'd landed
in my wooden seat
uncomprehending
(wait: I wasn't always young!)
among strangers
(but they know me)
waiting to be flung into adulthood
with a perforated past
and I couldn't tell anyone!
Once dreamt songs, now dream colors
blue pale blue gray blue teal blue
blue as Superman's hair
blue as Paul Newman's eyes
blue as skies are not
blue as blue light on snow
blue as the dress I lost
dark marine blue night, no land in sight
dark blue-black dreamless sleep
(dark blue-black dreams)
blue food, blue fire, blue feces, blue mail boxes (with red)
blue Corvettes, blue jeans, blue whales, blue cell
blue blood, more blood, blue blood, more blood,
more blood, more blue, more blue.
Once dreamed nights, now dream days.
Can't sleep -- who will break in
on my dreams? Who will save me
when I can't wake up? Who will appear
in the special edition of my favorite adventure?
Telephones are good for pricking dreams.
Survey my waking time: here you are,
there you were; did you know
when I dreamed you?
I couldn't move. I was awake,
my eyes glued shut.
I heard the radio. I cried
for help and never made a sound.
There are dream-like days.
I remember you as a dream.
I drive in a trance. I walk
in a dream. And everything I do
is part of a song I sometimes hear,
part of a dream I sometimes live,
when I awaken into sleep,
finding no mercy but some sense,
glimpsing a refuge I can't grasp,
dreaming I don't know who I am,
following you to learn my name,
hoping this time I'm not asleep.
Once dreamed fire, now dream peace.
I was in bed
and rose and rose
and flew about the room
astonishing the cats
and alarming myself,
down the Boardwalk, over the wicker chairs
and the old-folk crowded piers
and met you in mid-air
with your unborn baby,
our skirts like clouds,
our hair like pennants on that summer day.
We turned our faces toward the sea.
Copyright March 1991 by Rose Gemmaline Serafina
Credit: Fleischer Studios
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Contact GENESSA:
General email:
genessa@unforgettable.com
email Gail M. Feldman, Managing Partner:
genessa@unforgettable.com
email Richard L Cohen, Partner:
rlc48@comcast.net
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