20/20 blind
Can't fix
what you won't see
is broken
Vision
never of the eye
Greatness
never of the hand
Facts
games we play
convincing ourselves
we stand not on
nothing
(adult illusions
our rabbit and claus)
Facts
rocks
in the pockets of our
trunks
as we swim in the lake
of relationship
A fact never hugged me
A fact never loved me
never picked me up
nor put me back down
in the cold of night
So leave your facts
on the curb
My hunger needs
verb
My hair needs
fingers
My lips need
the warmth
of tender lips not speaking
And my ears
my dear
need no facts
only whispers of
breath
delivered in sighs
through parted lips
4 comments:
"My hair needs
fingers"
So wonderful and yet... not.
Not emotions that I want to identify with yet the words demand it. I wish that I were capable of saying more, of expressing how touching this was.
Jen, I wrote this this morning, not fully awake and as I read it back in your comment, it seems a lifetime ago. Such are my days where minutes are hours and hours are days and days are weeks. Thank you, as always, for your very kind and very heartfelt comments. I would hug you if I could. :-)
Expression and tone, yours, owned and lived, my mouth literally waters as lips move over these declarations, spellbinding in their eloquence and expressiveness, in their sincerity and directness. The won't within the first stanza, the nevers and the parentheses, plucked as examples (within the first part of this poem) from a tree full and ripe. Sometimes all I want to do in these comments is declare love, I love the first stanza, I love the second, I absolutely love the third and the fourth near eclipses the first three, the fourth is phenomenal. And then comes the bridge and where the first part led, the second accentuates. A fact never hugged me
A fact never loved me Bless your touch. My gosh, you just have such a way, how else to say it, how better, with words, the clearest insight in how best to convey precisely, combining simplicity with ingenuity, and the feeling one gets when you 'speak' is that, and I think I may have touched upon this same subject in another comment recently, you are grounded in a way that is rare, words are not in a dictionary, but part of the soil in which your hands are turning, in the food you consume, in the material upon your skin, the joyful yap of those pooches of yours and the sun alighting the horizon from that hill at the end of your road, I don't even know how to say though it is not for lack of trying, :-D, and to take from another comment of today, no forget that, alive with life, breath in words, heart in tone, natural, genuine and for those two qualities above all, your writings, this writing, is soul-stirring. Last two stanzas are marvellous, so moving. There is the separateness, understood and appreciated, of one being writer and one being reader, but not only is there such conveyance within your writings as for it to feel as though within the poem there is not two hearts but one within the other, your words so affecting, marking, as though they are being engraved, upon the heart and soul, but within the bridges of understanding, within the commonalities of life lived, emotions experienced, is a crest that is ridden, by you, a crest that is ridden by you. In life there are really few moments in which we are completely there, where every sight and every sound, where every millisecond washes over us, soaking...had to stop there for a while and have missed the train so to speak, but suffice to say, you focus within and without, yourself and all others. Platforms, of the highest kind. Will catch a later train. In a word, exquisite.
Ms Storm, sometimes you leave such fabulous comments I hardly know what to say. This is one of those times. :-)
Thank you for being you. I feel blessed beyond blessed that our paths have crossed.
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