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Post by luceluna on Nov 13, 2001 19:55:39 GMT -5
Intangible and broken; this fire is white:
An evening – soft drum, tiny voice,
Plain soul breathing, naked.
Fall to quiet knees – uillean pipes,
Insects – in cloistered fields.
Spluttering feather; peace, screaming,
Choked and plump. Salt.
Hand tense with wax, he is a walking pillar,
A walking pillar (touch/die),
A waking denial of sensory exuberance.
– Savagely I swirl deeper,
Touching moss, compost, breaking
Pieces of hair – ferns stretching.
Hand, film of tears (he doesn’t trust
You) – Angry light, smiling horde,
little eyes.
Atop my mouth – threads
Dangling from roof as roots
Or stalactites – cranberries
Leave smoothness. I close
The light from inside.
Beneath is a body: deep and muddy,
And it is alive.
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Post by BoyVenus on Nov 14, 2001 1:51:16 GMT -5
there's something almost sacrificial about the imagery in the first 15 or so lines. cranberries evoke some sense of femininity for me, i'm not sure... i think it's because i extended the sacrifical motif i saw into the 'feathers' and 'plump' which made me compare the subject to a hen on the chopping block. i.e. the subject being a hen, being feminine, talking of 'he', and oddly for me, cranberries, makes for a very commanding femininity. maybe it's because my sister drinks bucket loads of cranberry juice. oh the 'walking pillar' made the masculine element very priest-like, with wax... as if there are candles, very ceremonious... so that made for the sacrificial thing... it's beautiful, there is a lot of beautiful imagery. the first two verses are evocative to me of being outdoors on warm evenings in the country. one question: is it a simple story made complex through the intricacy of your description? or a complex story?  james :-) |
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Post by luceluna on Nov 14, 2001 2:55:20 GMT -5
it's complicated because it's not a narrative in the traditional sense... it's a lot of fragments drawn together by a core... that contrast of masculinity/femininity... i'm glad you picked up on that.... it's something i was struggling through in the poem, not so much in the lines, but in between them. this was the hardest one for me to write that i've ever done.... it just didn't want to come. it was a pile of absolute SHIT to begin with  |
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Post by Poeticsiren on Nov 15, 2001 11:59:06 GMT -5
I'm amazed by both of you.
You guys rock.
L.
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