‘Depths and Surfaces’ Glance 1/3: Transformations Poems (Book 10)

3 Dec


George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab


Poems Inspired by Book 10


Greg Mackie and Adam Wimbush


That Loser Pygmalion

(with apologies to Ovid)

by Greg Mackie

That loser Pygmalion
said he wanted perfection,
but he just couldn’t handle
yet another rejection.
He wanted a woman
with no heat, with no soul,
so he sculpted a maiden
of ivory cold.

He bathed and he dressed her
in fine cloth and in pearls,
and bruised all his fingers
on her stone curves and swells.
And when caressing cold concrete
was no longer enough,
he prayed for his fantasy
to become flesh and blood.

What wonder, what joy,
did fill his old heart
when her ivory lips
so softly did part!
“You’re alone now, no longer,
and I will share your bed,
but just not tonight, dear,
I’ve got a sore head…”



by Adam Wimbush


Vision drips a landscape vast,
Where emerald shard sparks shine and,
Even the dust seems illuminated.

Paradise becomes pregnant,
Thus shadows are born.

Their silent music maps weird webs,
Echoes caught in the fragile framework.

Static veins begin to reverberate.
Their varied atomic structures,
Spiral beneath the surface,
Like alien antenna protocol sniffing.

The flesh of the cosmos ripens,
While dog noise hardens to skin.

Under the weight of atoms,
The slender supports of reality bend,
The luxuriant knots of DNA unravel.
All previous preconceptions discarded.

Camouflaged amongst this cosmic clutter,
A boy materializes from the organic mess.
Shy shadows sipped at his thinking juice.

This is the flavor of his thoughts…

Once besotted with an animal;
A creature, which nourished minds,
From its magnificent antlers.
See the crackling energy of synapses spreading,
Forking like lightening.
The tips telling stories which were never repeated.

So some magic mechanism was fashioned,
To delicately decorate its neck,
And record the data, but alas,
The delicious delirium dodged this device.

Anyway the being visited many people’s minds,
It’s brain-quenching menu spluttering with story sparks.
It caressed your sub consciousness,
With its dream fingers.
Welcoming all formats of adoration.

The boy desired a fix,
From the fable cables upon its head,
So he led his beloved quadruped to an oasis,
Were they got drunk on dream soup.

He fondled the fantasy filigrees,
And marveled at the intricate imagery,
Pulsating from the animals amazing antlers.
Stories injected straight into his head, and
Together they galloped across galaxies.
The boy riding on its back.

Afterwards as the “Story Stag”
Was resting its ‘Tale Tendrils’
Beneath the Crab Nebular.
The boy went hunting, and
While wandering in the twilight reverie of story-haze,
He accidentally spears his companion.

Upon realizing the error in reality,
The boy, distraught, decides to die too,
No god could convince him otherwise.

He cried continually, and cries still into infinity.
The boy’s tears turned to pollen,
And were blown into the ether.

Eventually his whole essence evaporated,
His melancholy molecules metamorphed.

You can see them now,
Every time you gaze into the night sky,
The billion bits of his broken heart.

The scattered sorrow seeds called Stars.
Ready to germinate more galaxies.

A J Wimbush 2013

Obscurum per obscurius, ignotum per ignotius


You can find more about Greg and Adam here:

Greg Mackie




Adam Wimbush


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: