the room is a husk
insides dried up
there is no one here
but a man’s straight thin line
which in the evening, so frequently
leads off to
the dark
it leads him to run
far across corn fields
always-bright
away from anyone and
anything at all
to strip off clothes and
run naked, to peel away into the dark
where no one can find a man
who wants to be found but
has no way to be visible
the clearing of throats and rolled eyes
the clicked tongues of conversation
he will instead run into the pale places
the poor places
piss-poor, no accomplice
but humility in the face of
the single self
the single self
singluar self
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
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3 comments:
Like the expansion of and play between 'single self' and 'singular self' at the end.
Welcome to the Guard.
matt? james.
great stuff here. i keep reading it, trying to find something i can criticize.
there's a rhythm that the poem doesn't find until about the end of the first stanza, and which carries it through the end. it's the rhythm that pleases me - if you break down and reassemble the beginning, do you think there's room for some rhythm there too? i mean the 'anything at all/to strip off clothes and/run naked' kind of rhythm.
and, as always, if you think i'm an asshole, you can ignore me and keep doing what you're doing. i'm very excited to see more, though, regardless.
Seems like it's about some guy contemplating his junk and the rather depressing spots it's gets him into...no idea why, might be the bit at the end,
"but humility in the face of
the single self
the single self
singluar self"
that makes me thinks it's so Freudian, made me think it over again, got very hung up on why that would be written so seemingly conspicuously, so I thought it must have definitely been intentional but perhaps there's some other explanation.
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