William Murray

William Murray

 

What’s your favorite Bill Murray?

Asked the merry sailor

Floating on the backs of souls

Awaiting embracing fire

And an end to their sinful

Aqua and grey

Purgatory.

All stories must end,

 

Closures spider black fingers

Dance the salsa

Twirling red ribbon in slow motion,

 

All stories must end.

 

Small sticky hands

Interlock with your pinky and ring finger.

A chubby little girl

In a tattered dress

Belches

Stripes.

 

Conflicting views on times linearity

Aside,

Unless something ends

How can you ever really study it?

a great bald judge

sentences, to any who may listen.

 

The sailor pitches forward,

His sea legs shaken

by the firm grasp of gravity and dry land,

By the gentle woosh

Of interlocked ghosts you know,

And chuckles

The Life Aquatic,

 

No, no Caddyshack!

 

A passing snob and her

Pink pregnant lump

Scoffs up

Ghostbusters,

Her high heel breaks

And she swings her purse

At a recently jobless nobody.

His reaction, priceless

 

Film it on his phone.

 

You feel the waters

Up to your knees,

The ebb and flow

Of somber destination,

Quiet delusion.

 

Candy concreted child on the left,

Drunken inquisitive sailor right,

Lost generations rubbing shoulders

Up and down the boulevard

You say

Groundhog Day.

 

A fairytale man, trapped

By some omnipotent destiny

Not to become good,

To actually fall in love.

To actually lose his mind.

 

The great arc pitches forward,

Outward, away or towards,

Some forgotten tale

You entered in medias res.

 

All stories must end

 

Unless something ends,

 

Closures seduction writhes,

A ball of rattlesnakes

In hibernations release,

 

All stories must end

 

How can you ever really study it?

2 thoughts on “William Murray

  1. this is beautiful. god i feel like so many people i know are secretly geniuses, writing brilliant self-reflecting, endlessly schisming poetry like this. really good dude, i honestly mean that. you describe “the wordless” well.

    Like

    • Thanks! I’ve struggled for a long time on the idea of splitting this poem into two very different pieces, simply because it seems (in my head) to have this A plot line (speaker being asked by a drunk and a grubby munchkin what bill murray movie he likes) and this B plot line (life, the necessity of death, and a strange cameo from the Judge from “Blood Meridian”). Both work together, and I like this current version, and because the big reveal is Groundhog Day is the speakers favorite Murray movie, which may be one of the best movies ever made simply because it’s got the tightest, and one of the most bizarre plots ever. Murray’s character can’t get closure, and as the poem seems to want to get at, neither can these liquid souls, until they fall in love. Essentially, can we live without love? Can we truly live, not just exist, without attempting to love?

      Like

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