Funny how you read things at the precise time you go through things. Thats one of the beautiful things about poetry. I love the words changing font size, giving movement that pulses. We really can become wrecks. But the formalism of your writing, formalism? The way you throw the words around in their placement like a picture, using space, works here for this one. It works a lot of the time, but sometimes it's pretty much the only format you know?
But yes having "came up gasping for breath" is so weak that it gives the breathless quality to it. And the ice holes you circumnavigate, sort of like a ring of pressure?
Those jolts are painful.
Whether you are jolting awake at night, your pallour something that would scare a child, or jolting back to who you are, or jolting at something shameful, or the "where am I now, is this my life" jolt. The when did we get so old jolt. They sure are painful.
Feels like I’ve forgotten how to talk about poetry. It’s odd the way languages change. Like there are roads that lead out but there’s no telling which will be accessible when it’s time to speak. Perhaps we are also like that with poetry. Moving in and out toward different voices.
This is another poem of yours lately that I like very much. Not sure I have the words to say why. I just like the way it articulates itself, it feels natural.