This just hit me spot on. Beautiful. I'd even go as far as saying that these lines can stand on their own as one fine piece of flash-fiction. It's like one of those lines that are so simple and true and brilliant that I can't help but hate myself for not thinking of it.
On that note, what do you think? You think it can stand on its own? Because personally I think you've already "reached your quota" as my friend would say with that little bit. I think that other lines, while having a magic of their own, are not that needed. Sure they are connected to the piece since they paint a picture and to me, a premise that tries to help with the impact. But then again, I could be wrong.
I'd love to see you compile these pieces like Jayde did in that collection about homes. "This House is Not a Home" I think is the title of that one but I could be wrong.
I think it would read really well judging from what I've read so far.
trees have always looked like arms and hands stretching through the earth and trying in vain to touch god.
i wish there was a type of tree that was leafless year-round. i love the fall foliage, but leafless trees are neat.
i really love this. it's short and obviously not wordy. i especially like the first stanza. i can't really explain why i guess...some things aren't logical and can't be mapped out. i was just moved by this poem.
i hope you put some more stuff up and soon. i read all of your journal entries and poems so i need some new material. lol.
it is imperative to be every bit of something. at least...
and that view, that the simplest of things can invoke that realisation, is an important one to hold and cogito ergo sum is not just 3 little words it is a credo too.
i like that leaves are indeed sun spots and yes, they can and do burn holes in chests, especially those that go unarmoured by choice.
'your face feels like home' is just very well put, when married to the way that hands can be more than the sum of their parts.
Something which you understand but something which does not need to be named. It's the totality, the singular, the intimate and the strange, the familiar. The felt, shared, resonated. Something between two equals...
I get the feeling of a thing that needs to be filled, but I don't think it's the person that needs to be filled. For example, hands are filled with a loved one's face. In the chest, it's this vast space, but it isn't a vast emptiness. This isn't a poem of co-dependence. It's a poem of sharing and intimacy.
Maybe the word I'm looking for is understanding.
It's beautiful when two people search each other.
Sorry for my no sense nonsense. :)
Alia
| Posted on 2009-11-10 00:00:00 | by O | [ Reply to This ]
How odd.
I don't get the ending... but then again, maybe you don't either :) sometimes things write themselves, whether they make sense to the writer or not. It's certainly interesting, and if you do understand your ending... as the Buddhist said to the flashlight salesman: Enlighten Me.
Sorry, I love Buddhist jokes. Anyway. I love the sunspot leaves. I use to lie under this old cedar and it was like lace falling down on your arms, those reflections of light patterns. Gowned in sunlight, with ribbons of gold.
Beautiful write; it really doesn't have to make sense, I think it holds its own mystery.
Submission Name: eleven:oh-one
