I'll Follow

[silverwheel]

- written this week -


I can sit in a subway
and read conterpoints
to the mundane
but I want to read
the mechanism
at work: the bolts
and currents that operate
invisible

And if I write about the bolts
I must imagine the invisible
to approximate
something outside of me: what is
to stop me from imagining
in a sunset, or a kiss,
what would keep my eyes from
wandering in the sexual embrace
so I could soak in everything
else?

don't get me wrong, you're here too
but I think I feel
regret when you're a note
in the greater score, because the world
should be falling
in tune with you.
I think I may have reduced
you to fuel, "Kiss me, grip me,
you'll make a great poem..."

Write like you know
but really just think
and the autobiography
becomes memoir,
but not noticed
until it's fiction:
no trail to lead
back to the source,
because the words record
some petty world where I'm
riveted by the gentle scent of your hair
but I forget your words,
your language,
blind as ever
to the rhythms we might forge
underneath our minds.

If I dream of myself
as a child, and see everything
undiluted and rampant,
what wisdom do I have
about what I was?
My only knowledge

is that some nights
I hear that child crying,
and I will hate my waking life
if I do not follow.

 

[plazma]

because the words record
some petty world where I'm
riveted by the gentle scent of your hair
but I forget your words,
your language,
blind as ever
to the rhythms we might forge

I'm extremely impressed by this poem. It feels like a slightly world-weary and analytical view of the poet, psychoanalysing the interests behind writing, and the feelings beyond words. Tell me if I'm wrong here, but it feels like a poem about writing poetry.

Great stuff.

-plaz out-

 

[silverwheel]

in many ways, that's correct. I've been heading to open mic nights regularly for about 6 weeks now, and one Friday, after several good writing stints, I felt locked and uncomfortable. This is usually the moment when I would go into self-imposed writers' block for a few weeks, but I decided to just write in that moment. This wasn't the first one along these lines, but has been one of many. I guess this has been the most productive bout of writers' block I've had.

 

[yakksoho]

I love the rhythm of this poem, and the beautiful choice of words. Particularly the last few stanzas left me dazzled. It reminds me of exaclty what I was feeling sometimes commuting in Japan. Good work.

 

[Shuba]

This is unusually potent. Start to finish, a very strong piece.

 

[up all night]

don't get me wrong, you're here too
but I think I feel
regret when you're a note
in the greater score, because the world
should be falling
in tune with you.
I think I may have reduced
you to fuel, "Kiss me, grip me,
you'll make a great poem..."

I actually once dated a guy for this exact reason. It sounds truly terrible but I was so fascinated with the nuances of our relationship and the fantastic ways with which I could describe our perfect moments later on, that I completely lost sight of who he was. He was nothing but a muse. Great writing.