| Author | Message | ||
| steve
New member Username: twobyfour Post Number: 23 Registered: 05-2005 |
On Knowing the Date At ten thousand feet; she must skydive. I am without parachute, dangle a crystal out the door. Facets refract sunlight – red, blue, whorls of purple. She leaps, I release the flute. Soon, it will come. I will stand in a room full of people, insist she saved my life, that I will carry ashes to a beloved isle, give her to the sea, that I may not return. Shall I forsake myth or deity, take the existential path of gravity: the inevitable certainty this glass will reach Earth? What surface will it strike, will it shatter and shriek, will it break at all? This is the waiting, the prelude to grief. I stand ready to clean the fragments, the bits of ash from the sand as if the wind conspires to keep her from the salt dissolved. I breathe in the rain, wet patterns of chaos that smell of her lipstick in late afternoon. Yesterday we talked of being eighteen, of fate allowing us to meet thirty years ago – how we would argue about having children. She asserts, “I would have won that one, you are too much the artist for the weight of children.” Would I have stayed for her magic, tried to find the mirrors, not realizing until too late, there were none. Still, we wish for that hallway so long the endpoint of possibility barely flickers in the corner of an eye. I meet her on the ground. She is red-faced from yelping all the way down. We return to our luscious-fig loft, decorate our days with twilight. A stranger visits, splashes the molten Milky Way above our bed. I see the concrete, oak, metal pipes and wire. This nakedness is our home. I am bound never to venture out in search for broken glass. | ||
| Kathy Paupore
Intermediate Member Username: kathy Post Number: 2048 Registered: 12-2003 |
Steve, enjoyed. Many layers to this, a fine write. Did see a small typo, S2 L2 "live" should be "life." Loved, "whorls of purple", "prelude to grief", "wet patterns of chaos", all very original. Funny that the artistic one sees only concrete, oak, and metal instead of stars. Grief can do that to a person.  K | ||
| Gary Blankenship
Advanced Member Username: garyb Post Number: 4053 Registered: 07-2001 |
Steve, a vg read, the strongest lines Yesterday we talked of being eighteen, of fate allowing us to meet thirty years ago – how we would argue about having children. She asserts, “I would have won that one, you are too much the artist for the weight of children.” Would I have stayed for her magic, tried to find the mirrors, not realizing until too late, there were none. Still, we wish for that hallway so long the endpoint of possibility barely flickers in the corner of an eye. They could be a poem in themselves. Thanks. Gary Drop in read the new MindFire, 2005's first Go in through http://www.mindfirerenew.com/ to get to the issue in a click or two. | ||
| steve
New member Username: twobyfour Post Number: 24 Registered: 05-2005 |
sorry for the delay but we're out of town for a couple days and computer time is limited. thank you kathy for that typo. i have some other little edits to make so i'll get that one done as well. as to those lines you mention, someone else said reading this made them feel bipolar. i kinda liked that characterization. but yes, i put that naked bit in there because, this is about knowing someone is going to die in the near future and then having to still live your life with that person with some kind of normalcy. it causes you to strip down to the essentials while still 'decorating in twilight'. thx for what you see in this. dear gary. good to see you as always. once i get this move, unpack, remodel, redocorate, stuff done, i'll have more time to be here. pls forgive me for my scarce presence. as to those lines you pull out, yes i agree they could be a poem in themselves, but then many poems are really sequences of other smaller poems, yes? thx for always reading, i do look forward to your thoughts. s | ||
| D.J. Clowes
Board Administrator Username: sis Post Number: 218 Registered: 11-1998 |
S4 L3, breath should be breathe? Those e's have a way of hiding from our fingers sometimes. :-) I feel like I am looking into a snow globe when reading this. Only there is no snow here, perhaps the gold of glitter sparkling in the sun as I twirl it around. A world within a world, tiny; and I am a fumbling giant. (~~~~~~~~)<-- where words should be that are to painful to be uttered. Sis | ||
| steve
New member Username: twobyfour Post Number: 25 Registered: 05-2005 |
dear sis well, this is more extrapolation of possibility, than any kind of reality. more a study about loving someone terminal and how to deal with that on an everyday basis. thank you for reading. thank you for breathe, i'm fixing that right now. thank you for everything. s | ||
| E V Brooks
Advanced Member Username: lia Post Number: 1173 Registered: 12-2003 |
I just wanted to let you know what a fine read this is steve. I realise I'm late to this, but I did read it at the beginning of the week through the link on discussions. there is much in this piece and I truly enjoyed it. thanks. lia |
