A Dream of Breaking White Stones
Enter a dreamscape of eagles, wolves, mad queens, and monsters
Jacquelyn "Jacsun" Shah of Houston, TX, holds: A.B. (Phi Beta Kappa, magna cum laude), Rutgers U; M.A. English, Drew U; M.F.A. and Ph.D. English literature/creative writing–poetry, U of Houston. Her publications include a poetry chapbook, small fry; a full-length poetry book, What to Do with Red; and poems in various journals. She was Literal Latté’s 2018 Food Verse Contest winner and is the Choeofpleirn Press 2023 Kenneth Johnston non-fiction book contest winner — publication forthcoming.
Am I this ribbon of fire hanging like a pigtail from the Sun, crackling in a hot wind of madness? Harry Crosby, “103º” I dream I am an eagle winging over deserts of insanity, breaking white stones, the absurdity of this dream being no more than averagely characteristic of my sleeping state. I continually feel hurricanes of magic storming into me as wild and insane as eagles. I catapult through tunnels of delirium, over my shoulders a cataract of unloosened stars. I am the Lion, I am the Sun, I stamp upon the floor. O to be a wolf and bay at the moon, I proclaim. A Mad Queen I remain . . . forced to return to the problems. It is a monster that my thoughts have speared after the heart’s departure, a swift metallic monster curled in snaky arabesques, as cold as stone. Unwedded from the world, I stray through trees when the wind roars, in pursuit of drunken birds from strange darknesses released, rattling dice in a yellow skull. At this moment, an ugly old man steps out of his Rolls Royce. Dark-fingered, he utters an insect cry and departs, flickering out of sight . . . I break with the past and race into the future, my hands alive in expectation of a death more beautiful than death. Cento — all lines and partial lines from different poems by Harry Crosby in Harry Crosby: Selected Poems 2020, edited by Ben Maze
Thanks, too, to Soft Star Magazine for publishing my Dream of Breaking White Stones!
Thank you to anyone who reads my cento. I have now written about 385 centos, using lines from more than 2,500 different poets. And now I'm on to a new form I just now created, which I'm calling the QUIRK.