Raw Salt
by Bill Yarrow
I poured bleach on the bloody moon
and turned it scalding white. Then I
wrote my autobiography on it in ash.
When the bill came due, I joined the
cowboys who navigate by fear. They
locked me in a cabin inhabited by
moles. I escaped through the mirror
and landed in a lake. I baked for weeks
in seaweed and lost a lot of flesh.
Hittites picked the barnacles off me
and packed me in raw salt. I healed
in time to see the airmen welcomed home.
A tall barker was hawking condo lots.
It was Gatlinburg in mid July.
and turned it scalding white. Then I
wrote my autobiography on it in ash.
When the bill came due, I joined the
cowboys who navigate by fear. They
locked me in a cabin inhabited by
moles. I escaped through the mirror
and landed in a lake. I baked for weeks
in seaweed and lost a lot of flesh.
Hittites picked the barnacles off me
and packed me in raw salt. I healed
in time to see the airmen welcomed home.
A tall barker was hawking condo lots.
It was Gatlinburg in mid July.
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Author's Note
A version of this poem appeared as part of a 2010 e-book entitled "Wound Jewelry" published by new aesthetic.
Thgis poem appears in my chapbook FOURTEEN (Naked mannekin 2011).
The poem also appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX, 2012).
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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Of course it was Gatlinburg in mid July! Great, wild ride here, Bill. *
Excellent, Bill. You had me hooked from the exquisite first sentence.
Salt, a color, a taste, a preservative, is timeless, is everywhere, is useful, cannot be replaced, is a part of our bodies and universe. Am I coming close, I don't know. I'm kind of prosy and literal, but I like this. -- * Q
Wound Jewelry indeed. Wild, wild words. Fav.
Okay, I wanna see your narrative license and registration. You were weaving in and out of reality back there and I couldn't even keep up. If you hadn't have left your autobiography behind, I never would have found you. Gatlinburg in mid July? Great smokey mountains!
Surreal - Amazing imagery - "Hittites picked the barnacles off me
and packed me in raw salt."
Enjoyed this piece, Bill. A great eatery - Bennett's BBQ - G,TN. And... the Park Grill. And Pancake Pantry. And Smoky Mt. Brewery ... I'll stop.
It's been years since I've heard anything about the Hittites. Are you sure they were Hittites? What gave them away? The skirts and funny Shriner hats?
Great stuff.
"... I joined the cowboys who navigate by fear. They locked me in a cabin inhabited by moles."
*
* Bill, the salt of your soul is strategic raw material of your poems...
you touch raw recruit on the raw:)
this soul salt remind me Cohen`s song "Susan" ...but I can not understand why in your dream you are corps or drowning man...
you remind me an sun hare so alive and bright?
Honestly? I want to sleep with those first two sentences :)
wow..i loved the imagery and the pace of this piece. just fabulous!
Yes, just great imagery in this. Really felt like I could taste the salt, feel the heat...
Kind of gave me the chills, I felt like I was a fish, very interesting poem Bill
Again so nicely done with invention to spare it takes the reader to new and unexpected places. A terrific read but somewhat disturbing in the middle. Still it made me stop and think and imagine the possibilities.
Love the way this poem goes.
Wild.
Faved it.
another really nice bit of writing. i like the bit about the hittites, the image of the bleached moon.
Great poem.
Cowboys who navigate fear --
oh, yes.
One of my favorites from Fourteen.
*