there's always a sidewalk
with bricks
and maybe a hedge
and it's warm
the kind of warm
that only comes after
a long cold
the coming night is soft
and a couple hours away
and the yards are mostly deserted
and the streets
except for traffic
which doesn't matter
because traffic never matters
other than to remind me
that the world is still alive
beyond what I know how to touch
but maybe it's not really the light
or the warm
or time of day
that tells me
something changed
tells me something is present
that rarely is present
anymore
maybe it's the door
or the shadow of the trees
or the dark windows
or maybe it's the door and the shadows and the windows
because I am the shadow
and you are the window
on the other side of dark
and the door
between the two
is always
enticingly
closed
20 comments:
Beautiful poem. Loved it:)
"tells me something is present
that rarely is present
anymore"
These ten words really changed the whole tremor of the poem. Man that was a rapid 180 at 75 mph and very very smooth.
Like this very much.
a lovely work jason.
some things never change and some always do and sometimes it's hard to tell them apart. sometimes one loves the door's closed, but sometimes suffers from it.
this poem touched me, i loved it.
'enticingly closed' why yes, that is always the attraction, right?
You're blog has converted this heathen to poetry. Thank you for that.
...although poetry may never forgive you...;-)
Warm and wonderful.
a deepness of thought is present. and its enticing.
We're never alone!!
Loved this!
This is very haunting, indeed. It's like a tight capsule where the liquid inside is trying to shake itself up, but can only do so slowly, a little bit at at time.
Nevine
This has an urgency to it - a surreal overlay. Great psychoanalytical feel to it. Talking it out, talking it out...conscious level...unconscious level...what events have led to this "haunting". Then, those last few lines -
dark windows - things that are supposed to be transparent are not
"and you are the window" - hmm? who is hiding what?
The "I" in the poem is the shadow...again murky.
And there is a door between the two - more things closed off...but, yet you write "enticingly".
This is intriguing. I love it.
Pallav, thanks!
Walking Man, a turning point...I like that notion.
Michael, much appreciated.
Szelsofa, I like your thoughts on the poem. The dualities and opposites.
Shadow, probably so.
Four Dinners, welcome to the world of poetry! Unfortunately, I don't know that I'm a very good ambassador. I just do my thing.
Bernita, thanks. :)
Raj, yes, there is delving here.
Margaret, we do carry a lot with us.
Nevine, I like that metaphor. It feels right. Slow and mysterious, even to me.
Kaye, I really liked how you parsed it. You are exactly right about how it was written. Stream of consciousness. I let it have its way. And you seem to have caught some of the currents.
A top piece, Jason. I actually found it a better read the second time at a faster pace. A truly great poem.
Regards, David.
Well done Jason. Another beautiful piece of writing. :)
David, pace is always so dicey. I have a particular pace in mind as I write. However, if I don't pull the reader into that same pace, the whole thing falls apart.
Akasha, thank you! This one was really organic.
Very haunting. It feels like struggles with another, that place where you feel there is a wall that you just can't work through with someone and you just WANT to so badly. The last three lines are agitating, you just WANT to open that door.
Catvibe, that's a haunting read. The separation here can feel like losing breath. Legs weakening.
jason: hey, poetry in motion, after much serving of prose. I like both -- the piece above recalls a short I did about what's beyond the "door", but yours is lofty look:), and mine's jest a peep:( YL, Desi
PS: Jason, May I reprise your teacherpiece for some students of mine at desiderata2000? YL
Desi, thanks! And yes, go ahead and reprise my post.
Post a Comment