From Indigo, Aqua.
I’m taking a chance today, posting an excerpt from an old (and, at this point, very page-scattered) manuscript of a novel called INDIGO, about a couple traveling in India. I thought of this after taking the above photo–yes, I know it’s not aqua – because the manuscript includes several short segments that bounce around shades of blue. A few caveats – the manuscript is entirely fictional – in fact the voice below is even supposed to be a man’s; secondly – warning–there is some “adult” content.
I am linking this to the wonderful dVerse Poets Pub Open Link night. Thanks so much for you indulgence; sorry sorry sorry for the length.
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From Indigo -“Aqua”
Aqua–the color of water at my childhood pool, chlorine a somehow trap for sparkle.
As a boy, that blue crystallized all that summer should be, though now I think it was the lamps I loved the most–the pool open till 9–those underwater headlights set into asphalt walls.
In the sunset nights of early summer, their glimmer barely showed, but as the long days waned (though summer itself grew hotter and we stayed late), the lights turned brilliant, each disk radiating the white-embered halo of a magic cave or chest, or, as I liked best to imagine, a sunken porthole, which I, a creature of the true sea (some great mermoth), both battled and defended.
In India, this aqua–a kind of turquoise, truly–can be found in the North, set into Himlayan silver–though, to me, it will always be more of a Native American blue, house paint in New Mexican desert.
I keep wondering what would have happened if I’d gone South instead of East; if I’d taken to shooting those geologically raw mountains of Guatemala or Peru; that macho of green.
But I came instead to these worn plains, crowded steps, thronged cities; came and came again.
Men hold hands in Delhi, Bombay, of course, here too in Varanasi, arms on necks, a caressing slide around the shoulders.
I’d like to think of aqua as the color of Helen’s throat, too light for Shiva’s. He inhales all the poison in the world, refuses to swallow, turns blue with not breathing. It makes sense that his blue, so troubled, is darker than aquamarine.
Though she’s not breathing now either. I can feel the caught swell in her throat, the pulse and not-pulse. .
She won’t acknowledge it, of course. Neither of us wants to talk of any of this just yet, still thinking there’s a chance it will go away if we can just avoid mentioning it.
But the unmentionable nags, my mind picturing Tim’s hands between my legs, coupling my balls, a tremor of blue deeper than aquamarine, dyes that swirl in water. When we meet him in the street, I ache even for the dark bristle of hair on the backs of his hands.
She wants me to just say no, as my entire chest tries to promise, while some other part of me–some careening crazy piece–silently begs him to refuse any no that I might muster, begs him to make happen what I cannot begin, to turn my life into the dazzle of light on water, floating, irrefutable.
How clear that pool grew as night fell; how I wrapped my arms about the reverse shadows of those lights; how I lingered over them, submerged until I gasped, away from the humid darkness, guarding, loving,ide—I can’t explain it–she doesn’t want me to explain it. While he already understands.
I feel like I am both dying and being born at once, that despair, that exhilaration, fear.
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Tags: associations with aquamarine, blue blue my love is blue, dVerse Poets Pub, great blue mermoth, India novel excerpt, Indigo, manicddaily, story about bisexuality
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ManicDDaily 
August 7, 2012 at 11:13 pm
First–barely noticed the length, which means it was very well written, with my online attention span of about thirty-five seconds. Then, the descriptions and colors, and the pool–the image of the port hole, the child’s imagination–all very alive and striking, and relatable, which is important as you transition to the deeper and more mysterious shades of blue we have in our brains and bodies–very hard to get into another headset like this, yet it seems easy to understand here–I was nodding, and feeling torn, and knowing there was no happy ending/answer, though perhaps somewhere an ecstatic one.
The picture also–the mermoth–really liked the whole package, k.
August 8, 2012 at 9:29 am
Thanks–of course the narrative part of book not so poeticized. I’ve got a bunch of old projects trying to decide where to go…
August 7, 2012 at 11:14 pm
I really like this excerpt – although it is prose and part of a longer composition, the structure and verbiage is very poetic… one could almost term this passage a prose poem, but for your note about the novel.
August 8, 2012 at 2:41 am
wow k. – think that is one of the best capture of emotions rgd. bisexuality i ever read, you manage to capture the fight, the longing, the not being able to talk about it so well and the set up in india works tremendously good as well
August 8, 2012 at 9:29 am
Thanks so much, Claudia.
August 8, 2012 at 4:19 am
A tantalizing piece–not long enough. It evolves quite naturally and organically, and the ‘prose’ is itself quite poetic and beautiful. Nothing forced or arbitrary. I’d like to find out where it leads. Very nice work.
August 8, 2012 at 6:01 am
def not too long at all ki really like your prose…it has a flowing style and you have enough in there to keep us reading thorughout to see where you are going next….
August 8, 2012 at 11:04 am
“chlorine a somehow trap for sparkle” … I love this, especially that you say “a somehow” instead of “somehow a.” These subtle alterations in normal speech make great poetry.
I love this line: “I’d like to think of aqua as the color of Helen’s throat” … And also the rest of that paragraph.
This is beautiful: “begs him to make happen what I cannot begin, to turn my life into the dazzle of light on water, floating, irrefutable”
What a powerful ending: “she doesn’t want me to explain it. While he already understands. I feel like I am both dying and being born at once, that despair, that exhilaration, fear.”
Excellent work, K.
August 8, 2012 at 11:21 am
Thanks so much. k.
August 8, 2012 at 11:23 am
PS _ as always, thanks for your incredibly thoughtful comment. I am always so admiring of your energy and analytic precision. Don’t know how you manage it all! k.
August 8, 2012 at 12:07 pm
Like hedge , i too
cruised through
unhindered by time fear . . .
“chlorine a somehow trap for sparkle” i was ‘in it’
from there on in – great line!
and the conclusion! . . . or is that the beginning? . . .
a good read! 😀
August 8, 2012 at 12:16 pm
Thanks. Not beginning. thanks. k.
August 8, 2012 at 12:22 pm
I didn’t think it was too long either. Loved all of the descriptions of different shades of blue. The water, the emotions.
Very enjoyable read K.
August 8, 2012 at 6:46 pm
Thanks, Daydreamertoo!
August 8, 2012 at 6:42 pm
Very nice. I’ll be reading this again, it was not too long at all and leaves me wanting to know more.
Thanks for sharing this, very brave of you!
August 8, 2012 at 6:45 pm
Thanks, Becky. k.
August 8, 2012 at 7:43 pm
Interesting and as Sam said, a very poetic rendering. The prose reminded me of Lawrence Durrell. Maybe the subject but also the treatment put me in mind of THE ALEXANDRIA QUARTET although it’s been since the 70s that I read it and mostly I retain images, the way it made me feel, and how extraordinary it was in scope and characterization. This piece has that as well.
August 8, 2012 at 9:17 pm
Thanks, Gay. k.
August 8, 2012 at 7:48 pm
Kept my interest with ease and flowed like the breeze, wonderful done no way you should shun it under your sun. Now I am done, what fun.