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When skies painted waters azure - breathing, When flowers caught lucid fire - scathing, When my rib cage contracted - in tempo desiderata, I knew. I knew - There was no flash across my pupils, A painful instance - My cornea burnt with a finality, The white blindness, From looking at the midday sun Or mountain snow, glaciers - try reading French, A touch of the clouds, spinning me away To where brightness amalgamates obscurity. There was just that - salt. Salt engraved into my skin, an alien, And salt aging under the world from its beginning, Leaving white shifting fingerprints On the stones In the air - Poseidon’s hands Gigantic Miniscule Trace all the crevices of a man’s life - They leave no immobile claims - Just white specks of realization. So bitter. |
Do you think mythology teaches us lessons? Or is it just a fancy tale, of Gods and unspeakable desires. Similar to following the lives of celebrities or a favorite soap opera. | Posted on 2009-01-13 00:00:00 | by EpsilonpsiiChi | [ Reply to This ] | the idea of poseidon's hands is terribly inventive, and made me smile at the originality of it. so, you speak of tears on a very grand scale, how it blinds and becomes turgid and bitter, and very... primal, unable to be escaped. | this is monumental in scope and vision, very wild and free, yet melancholy. | Posted on 2008-07-25 00:00:00 | by discombobulated | [ Reply to This ] | Let me say I think this is brilliant. It's wonderful. It's complete and I see nothing I would change. I loved it and it's a Fav. | When things changed - "I knew." There was no great revalation, just a slow realization, the residue of a relationship. It came with hurled insults and a "bitter" ending - "Salt." You have expressed this is such a subtle way, with clever imaging, and hints of philosophy. It's like an acceptance that comes long after the event, so that we look back with a new wisdom of experience. It would be difficult to choose a portion that I could call a favorite, yet I want to highlight what drew me to this: The first three stanzas are beautiful, but what caught me was, "There was just that - salt." Maybe it's the simplicity of the line compared to the colorfull images of all the others, the contrast. Somehow that one word "Salt" takes on many new meanings; bitterness, realization, destiny, Stanza 4 is fantastic, showing the hurt, the "stones," the underlying truths. I think it's brilliant, so subtle, yet so true to its meaning. Again, high praise for this one, I loved it. Phil | Posted on 2008-07-25 00:00:00 | by phil askew | [ Reply to This ] | |