We will live together in this strange place,
You with your strange thick glasses
(Your eyes are soupy with fingerprints and dust)
The wail of sirens outside the window
The imprint of shattered things
playing on the phone machine
We will peel
layers and layers
of flaking comfort
from these enclosing walls
We will cease to be each other.
waterstains and rust
will rarify
our curious selves
You will lose your chalky pallor
I will forget my reservations
We will cease to be each other.
Our voices will lap against the confines of this place
like echoes of swimmers in the dark
We will forget the license plates
Our memories will fray and unravel
The pillowcases will yellow with the oil
of our becoming
Then you will remember your bronchial cough
we will speak in measured tones again
light from the street will cast a morbid pall on events
The walls will collapse
I can find my own way out
I will call from time to time
I will start to remember
I will lose the key
You will dine on dust and soil
You will see things in a different light
You will record another message
and we will cease to be each other
5 comments:
I have now officially read all your posts. Did you write this? It's very disquieting. Will have to ruminate for a while. Will come in at intervals and try and understand what it exactly about it that makes me uneasy.
Right. Well, no, it's not a very happy little thing. Disquieting is an excellent way to describe it. I think "Rarify" wants to hit a note of loveliness and sadness that it hasn't quite found yet. It keeps hitting creepiness instead.
But neither is it finished. I expect to tinker with it, as I will with "Crushed" and whatever else lurches forth from my keyboard in this context.
Thank you for your kind words regarding this little enterprise of mine. To begin to answer some of your questions: my skin color is quite brown, the product of an amalgamation of several asiatic complexions, but most directly from my parents' Filipino heritage (I will be visiting the Phillipines in February--my Grandma's Farewell Tour '05). More comments and posts shortly, as ever.
Ah, that remark makes sense now. I was in Morocco once and a Bedouin asked the guide whether I was a man or a woman because he'd never seen anyone blonde w blue eyes and wasn't even sure I was real. Mind-blowing isn't it?
I don't find it creeping, just... disquieting bcs all that you mentioned is there.
OMIGOD, "Crushed" is yours as well! I SWEAR I'm usually brighter than this, you'd think the hotel sex and the pink cadillac would have given me a clue since it's supposed to be W., I'm getting quite worried now bcs this is entering the extreme daftness read area and it's time I stopped this cycle. Really worrying, how stupid of me! Well, I opened a new window to re-read it - and it's bloody brilliant, something I fully can relate to. Hell, who can't.
You are to be congratulated simply for reading everything on this site, I'm impressed. You know, you should take it easy for the next few days. No heavy machinery, stay away from geiger counters, drink lots of water.
And I'm even a little bit flattered (again--you must stop flattering me, really) that you would confuse "Crushed" with something of Whitman's own vintage. ("Crushed" is mighty proud of itself, right now.) ("Rarify" and "Squirrel Counts Fire" are a bit intimidated, like the kids who have to follow the ace grammarian at the spelling bee. They're wadding up spitballs and plotting wedgies on poor "Crushed".)
Once I've unleashed a few more of these hellions, I'll write a post clarifying why the hell I'm going all poetical. Until then, I'm just curious to see what people will say, if indeed anyone will say anything, if indeed anyone ever visits.
For which alone, I reiterate, you are to be congratulated and thanked muchly, dear Lioness. But please do feel free to criticize as the leonine mood strikes.
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