Appropriate, the night watchmen
whittle away at contingencies
and sharpen the locks with sickening
authority. Exactly what
is inadequate remains unclear:
but we own neither meaning
nor expectation; only the plain
angles of the doorway, these
floodlit alcoves and their allegations
of love. Somehow the cigarettes
are quietly regular, any silence is
a victory for justice, or tragedy
or both.
Author notes
Blame Luhmann and systems theory.
Written December 23rd, 2005
What did you think
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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good
very good
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Quite lovely. The poem continues to grow.
Quietly, love, we do own those doorways. -
"but we own neither meaning
nor expectation;"
Very Cohen... I was shocked. -
This is so lovely - it's sort of contemplative and pensive and quiet-feeling...I don't know whether it's solely down to the mention of the night watchmen in the opening lines, but it reminded me of that strange, still hush you sometimes get at night in a building or place which is usually busy - everything seems sort of amplified, and odd...a good time for thinking. The line breaks are beautifully done aswell - the poem just flows as easily as a thought, and the rhythm is almost lulling. Loved in particular the line about sharpening the locks 'with sickening authority'. Gorgeous. I hope you post something new soon.
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such subtle yet striking brilliance from this piece. nice to read your work again, I hope you will be posting more soon.
Lea -
thank you very much
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thank you
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Brilliant
You are a talented writer, make no mistake about that.So much of the tone and theme of this short poem reminded me of The Waste Land by T S Eliot. Loved the line about owning neither meaning nor expectation. The greatest compliment I can pay you is to tell you that your poem was truly inspirational to me. Breathtakingly haunting poem. I like you -I really do. camus -
Oh, you must be studying Sociology.
I remember once saying to my then partner, "Tell me what you're feeling," expecting him to talk about emotions. He answered something like "Your hand on my chest." It brought me into the world of the concrete, up from my abstract obsessions; I liked that.
This poem speaks to me of that kind of thing: "only the plain
angles of the doorway, these floodlit alcoves," though I am congnisant, too, of the metaphor. The poem works on a number of levels of metaphor, I think. The regularity of cigarettes is a stunning observation.
Nice to see you posting.
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Yes! Incredible! cigarettes are quietly regular ... love that, but then so much here to love ... felt darkness in the light and silence in the noise, that is what I have experienced here. ah so good to have something from you ... lovely, just lovely
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i always search for a new poem from you and today it's nearly christmas and you have posted a delicious present of intensity and depth
thank you
elaine
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*bows*
ah im first. yikes. i don't feel up to being first. i have no idea what this made me think about. there were little pictures and an overwhelming feeling of it's never going to be okay. but that could just be what i've been thinking anyway. "exactly what is inadequate remains unclear" my god. we need more hope. but this is beautiful. funny how sad is so beautiful.
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