I reach along an arm of awareness
(this one into seeming empty sheer empty)
not writing but what writing feigns wonders
days go by physicalities ponder their own
can it be conveyed all is held right there
without unnecessarily fabricating something else
primacy sometimes sleep speaks of this
sometimes music or space between notes
I've been given what I have emptiness of
words seeing hearing and something elusive
slowly without pace or time what is empty
finally remains so even as flowing over
what sleeps on sleeping when that wakes
re-crystalizes itself with aikido likeness
I love the "something elusive" of this poem- very effective - how it scans and starts/stops off cadence, form and content supporting each other. Savoring "not writing but what writing feigns wonders / days go by." Somehow spare, eloquent, a kind of pausing like writer's block/time machine days of compression and wonder.
ReplyDeleteMy friend and I agreed last week to start a band when she retires (I know, so Portland). ; ) We made up songs while she chopped wood and I watered a massive garden. I tended toward electrifying, effusive ditties and she said she preferred the less direct lyric, the ones that left something in between, ephemeral, floating, cryptic. This poem would qualify for our future rock bank, I'm thinkin'
Wow, I love the personal intertwined with your poetic touching into the poem. I enjoy the stop/start or starts/stops, as you said, of words emerging out of/through/into the awareness field... since words are text and code-like, the starts/stops to me are where the words break through from the non-word awareness field to a knowing where words as language act as signs of what is otherwise essentially not spoken, but discerned in another non-linear way. Does that make sense?
ReplyDeleteGo for it, if you like, put music to the words here. I'd love to hear that! I've often felt that could happen, too, with some of my written pieces! Love the energy of your comments. Thank you Scooter.