i know little more of her
than i knew yesterday.
she is a scraping memory-
gum under 1952 standard issue bleachers,
the decay is something pungent
and strong.
that is what she is,
the smell that overwhelms you
but cannot be readily identified.
it's elusive.
little heat waves
exhale gently from a unit
i borrowed from my parents
to stave off the cold of morning.
she is there too
in the distortions of the world
behind competing currents of air.
the carpet seems to crawl
if you watch through the heat
at just the right angle.
i sometimes wonder if i sat with God
or unfeeling stones
a million breaths from this spot
if i could still see that crawling-
if i could look down on the world
and know that it was alive,
that it was not just rotating on
some invisible axis,
but breathing or screaming
in some beautiful and unnaturally shrill language.
but, alas, i could not even hear
the voices from the mouths
of her cells.
and God knows i love every part of her
more than any other sweep
of his broad creation.
Comments
1 - 16 of 16
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O.o I am having a hard time coming up with something to say. The imagery and feel of this hits like a punch to the chest actually. I like the stark, tone of *almost* indifference, and the lack of importance creeping out of every line, even in the lower case 'i' s . This stirs feelings that are quite hard to explain. I guess that makes it art
This took me on quite to few possible places so far as who she is... everything from a mother or older sister who died, to a lost lover, to the thoughts of a serial killer! (yeah I am odd) I am left in the end, not wanting to know who she is is. It is better that way. hell if I know why...
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thank you for taking an interest in my writing lately.
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i was about to copy/paste the same part autarky just did. that part was pure genius.
i spent a lot of time trying to figure out who the "her" was. maybe it's obvious and i'm just not picking up on something. or perhaps you didn't really want to specify her identity? hard to say.
love this
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the latter. its mostly a poem about insignificance, so it stands to reason i wouldnt want to make "her" particularly significant either.
thanks for reading
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"i sometimes wonder if i sat with God
or unfeeling stones
a million breaths from this spot
if i could still see that crawling-
if i could look down on the world
and know that it was alive,
that it was not just rotating on
some invisible axis,
but breathing or screaming
in some beautiful and unnaturally shrill language."
this is beautiful. subtle, like something extraordinary you notice only after a second glance, except it definitely didn't take me two times to love this poem.
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this is beyond my compliments.
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Oh god. This is brilliant.
I'm speechless.
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oh god. you flatter too much.
but i guess i can still be yo frand
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Fsh. You deserve teh flattery.
Hooray for friendliness!
-Gives you cookies-
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gracias
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-looks up how to say you're welcome in Spanish-
de nada.
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wow
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*upside down clappies*
mom
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i've already read this at least 5 times
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i liked the connection between looking down on the earth and also looking through the heat. though the whole thing is amazing, that stanza stood out to me the most. love this.
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