This site will self destruct in 2 months, March 17. It will come back, and be familiar and at the same time completely different. All content will be deleted. Backup anything important. --- Staff
The world begins
and so on. God creates physics
or maybe geometry. Later the inventor invents
and what is left?
The sparrow remains the sparrow
in flight, on branch, under sky.
There is no persuasion, no convincing,
only your solipsism, the condition
of our generation.
Build a city on water and it will sink. segue
Build a boat on land and it will stay.
There are three, maybe four people
I can really stand. Even time
in its proceeding recklessness
becomes predictable; the routine,
mundane--meals, books, sex,
each reincarnated leaf, the rotting compost
pile you plan on spreading in the garden
We begin courting our limitations, understanding
the burden language carries,
to at once represent the smallness of the universe
and the largeness of perspective.
Nostalgia means too much
to be important here,
where the animals drown,
where you quietly wade.
In your defense
a year passes quickly
and no one believes in empathy
They tell me to kill.
I do what I am told.
| This is so attuned to existentialism. Though I've read it before, I just read The Stranger by Albert Camus. It left me feeling empty and forlorn because that is the essence if nihilism.|
And this piece does the same. But I don't see the theme as detrimental in any way. It is just stark enough to awaken, and certainly with some amount of force, those who live the mundane.
It is nicely laid out in form both from theme and perspective.
Really masterful writing, in every way. And I love the idea that
language is inadequate to describe the world as we might perceive.
So many factors compose our perception and most of all, it lends a bit of hope to the grandeur we've come to know as poets.
Keep describing your world, I'll be here to listen. I'm keeping this one, and take care of yourself.
|| Posted on 2008-06-23 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ] || Holy crap. |
I always enjoy your work, but there's the occasional piece that lurks like a crocodile under muddy water, waiting so cold and mechanical, until some wretched beast wanders by and then it's all red, red, red.
This is that kind of piece, and it's a punch to the gut that takes my breath away.
The way it starts off stretched-out and cynical, then pulls itself in to a focused, silent fury/desperation/regret, boiling down to that last disgusted stanza. The sheer weight and purpose behind every word. The perfection of your line breaks, the absolute control you have over sounds and rhythms.
Amazing. Absolutely, undeniably amazing. Thank you so much for sharing.
|| Posted on 2008-06-23 00:00:00 | by saartha | [ Reply to This ] || abridged:|
there are lines in this piece i recognize.
on their own, in their previous lives, i adored them. put together in this one piece the scare me.
the last lines feel so alienated. as if you have no say in anything any more. as if thinking for yourself is completely illegal.
what worries me is how small the universe is and how big our personal voids are... i dont know... its rather unsettling to me
[see PM for unabridged version of comment]
|| Posted on 2008-06-23 00:00:00 | by Someones Epiphany | [ Reply to This ] |