You know you can stay I saidI know he said back
As long as you want, whenever you want
I know. Can I plug my iPod in?
Yeah.
We drove north without another word
He in his world
Me in mine
The console, a canyon
so it seemed
so it might as well been
You sound pitiful she said
Yeah.
I love you.
I know.
I'm here.
I know. What I don't know,
is why
A check should come today
I'll take it to the bank
and the teller won't say a word
except for the conversation
I see
behind her eyes
in her casted eyes
I hate those words
not said
those words that come
from soft eyes
I can't even f*ing explain them
but they see the check
see where it is from
look at me
and in that look
daggers
and so it is
every week
I die a little more
but I'm used to that
been used to it for fifteen years
on those solitary journeys north
where two become one
not one as together one
but one as in one here
and one there
that is where the dying occurs
on the field of concrete
my steel stallion
in a field of blood
watching
quietly watching
my blood
walk away
4 comments:
Given how raw, sincere and open your poetry always is, it seems perhaps rather peculiar to refer to this poem and a couple of your most recent as on an even deeper level of the above. Deeply personal, there is baring in a manner that is different somehow than poetry that has come before, more direct, less artistic perhaps, equally influential and expressive. The difference lies mainly in the language, I would say were I to pinpoint, a certain casualness to it, every day language as opposed to poetic language, wonderfully effective in reinforcing the essence of the words written regarding repeated actions, ongoing situations/emotions/thoughts/...
I love the connection between verse one and verse two, two points of knowing and a circle of meaning and history and relationship circling. There is something so very, very appealing in the style of these two versus (in particular), they draw and enchant...sidenote, just because I found the thought interesting, in attempting to analyze precisely why this style is so appealing, Dustin Hoffman in Rainman reciting the Who's on First sketch, which guessing has to do with the voice, although it is conversation spoken between two and then two, it is a remembered conversation, with an inkling of representation, of echoes that only alter a little based on time, on place. Most of all, of course, what is so lovable about these verses is the knowing, above all else, because all else, there.
The remainder of this post is as great a literary delight, but in a slightly different manner, it is like a bridge between the above and (as though such a thing were possible to say, but bear with me) the general style of your poetry. There are a great many examples of your immense gift of expression, phrases like I see/behind her eyes/in her casted eyes and the final lines, particularly the line from which the title came, a dozen different responses well in the reading of this phrase, wonder in the magic of language and the gift, ear, understanding that has been granted to cite one instance, anguish to cite another as the emotion within the words rushes further with each syllable and in the single phrase a wealth of imagery. Couple of phrases. quietyly watching a pairing undoubtedly seen before, but as the two words couple here, one could lay hand over heart and swear without being able to bring to mind a single example as evidence for or against, just knowing, that never were these two words coupled together more poignantly. Absolute. Missed reading, more so now.
Ms Storm, you have been missed. More than I know how to say. But I will say this: your comments make me want to write. I can think of no finer compliment.
This one is a deeply personal one, one of dying a little with each unemployment check I cash coupled with the dropping off of C, especially during the summer when he has a choice and the choice is to go home rather than stay.
I've tried to keep the language direct as I follow Rilke's advice, which is to write what you know. What I've written here, is what I know, is my experience yesterday and today, is the dull pain I live with. The poem could be better, but I like it in this raw unpolished form--a reflection of my raw and unpolished life.
As always, your wonderfully kind words are deeply appreciated. Thank you my dearest Sunshine. :-)
I'm happy to see Ms. Storm too. I had worried about her.
"watching
quietly watching
my blood
walk away"
Amazing how you always manage to capture such intense emotion in so few words.
I wish things were easier in parent/teen relationships.
Jen, me too. On both accounts.
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