Thursday, September 15, 2005

fire / st.ill in my cheeks / more / on this / for you

& i am walk ing on / in to / nite time
a gain / broken a way from yellow
& orange of / all day / clouds cover

certain lee / trees are turn ing / once more
reds tip leaves / not caring / green is gone

& so hard to write these words / hands
dis connect ed / from / slow / thot

& concentration requires / con cen tra tion
i can't go there right now / / body a mass of
oh / this cruel hurt // this is wish ing
for / mercy / & how do i change this / stop stop
light en ing bolts & knots /

& this mind / loves the walk ing /
loves the wound ed / & in down time /
really / only thinks of stars / whits of lite
follow the dipper over the mountain / see see / it'll take you
to dawn / & last nite / sleep finally consumes / just for a moment
this moment / & some times i wonder / will i wake up / but
these are only thots / pass ing / strange / in significant / lost
between drags of cigarettes / & late nite


& see / day lee / passion rises / up up / i'm think ing
how do i get out of town / & what if / just what if
i left / / every one would hate me / i tell tony
may be you should just go on a holiday in stead
he suggests / & i say / then i'll have to come back


suffer the little children

let the mothers rot in hell



& i feel / the / a shift coming

on & round / /& once a gain
i've bitten / hard / in to
some thing bitter / /

it's all about bad words choices /
intention / with no / intent
it's me push ing crazy on you


& i'ts the hand around my throat i keep
coming back too / i can't for get / loss of
breath / glint of tooth / ah a smile / i'd walk
a million miles to taste that smile a gain

but it all ways comes back to that
this very thing / & i am repeat ing a gain
i am repeat ing / /

this very thing that keeps the body going
mind @ bay / / it's the water / constant lee
drawn back to the edge of blue / verge

a bohemian nite cap / when air tastes
like some thing you can't for get / sugar wine
salt / i could swear it was clover / / & i have
lost all images / lost to memory / touch of
hand to hip / finger to bone / a long the line
of / spine / / it all ways pass es /

& i am smell ing sweet soap again / cover ed
in ash once more / soak ing in water up to my
chin / try ing to wash / clean





there are no more questions




/





3 comments:

Lorna Dee Cervantes said...

there are no more questions/ more / on this / for you




certain lee / trees are turn ing / once more
reds tip leaves / not caring / green is gone

& this mind / loves the walk ing /
loves the wound ed / & in down time /
really / only thinks of stars / whits of lite
follow the dipper over the mountain / see see / it'll take you
to dawn / between drags
of cigarettes / & late nite

& see / day lee / passion rises / up up / i'm think ing
how do i get out of town / & what if / just what if

& i feel / the / a shift coming

on & round / /& once a gain
i've bitten / hard / in to
some thing bitter / /

& i'ts the hand around my throat i keep
coming back too / i can't for get / loss of
breath / glint of tooth / ah a smile / i'd walk
a million miles to taste that smile a gain

this very thing that keeps the body going
mind @ bay / / it's the water / constant lee
drawn back to the edge of blue / verge

a bohemian nite cap / when air tastes
like some thing you can't for get / sugar wine
salt / i could swear it was clover / / & i have
hand to hip / finger to bone / a long the line
of / spine / / it all ways pass es /

& i am walk ing on / in to / nite time
a gain / broken a way from yellow
& orange of / all day / clouds cover

& i am smell ing sweet soap again / cover ed
in ash once more / soak ing in water up to my
chin / try ing to wash / clean

fire / st.ill in my cheeks

Lorna Dee Cervantes said...

Excuse this trimming & slight reordering (re-framing, like a photo composition, like cropping).

I just love the poem that is here, Love these bits of passages, theses flares & flashes of language & (what?) heart-call. It's like a favorite flowering anything. Some poems are just not bulbs, self-contained & one only per season. Some bloom profusely the more we cut. Some display best in an arranged bouquet. Some we want just to set and go to seed slowly. You know?

And, aometimes, as in life, our endings are our beginnings and our beginnings were really the end.

What do you think of this crop? This is the poem that is "here", that is, present and "working", as I see & "hear" it.

Starting with trees, after the new title of questions & the address (more / on this / for you), seems to set the content core, these paths & passages, this changing, seasoning we're always doing, and how it, sometimes, drills into our core. And, sets up your main symbolic core: walking (out or in, back or away), this is why I'd suggest reframing, moving those lines:
& i am walk ing on / in to / nite time
a gain / broken a way from yellow
& orange of / all day / clouds cover
to the end, closing the poem on your strongest move, symbolically, poetically. (Plus I love all day / clouds cover, and how it , then, echoes "clover" visually and aurally. aura / lee

Then, poem seems to build, up to your apex, that mystery title "fire / st.ill in my cheeks." See, how now it makes more sense as aging (trees turning red), youthful blushing (this is the symbolic core: both negative & positive in multiple connotations), passion, maybe suppressed anger. But, and this is powerful, and why I'd want to reframe it:: unlike trees, treasoned to the seasons, *we* can walk. If we want.

Nice poem! I love these lines. I hope you don't mind my, what I call, sanding plank. I can't keep my hands off a good poem.

Best.

666poetry-finchnot said...

dear lorna dee

thank you so much for
your comments & the cropping /
a very love lee positive type
thing for me

(you have no idea how pleased
i am / )

i don't really see my ramblings
as poems / / it's just me bleed ing
out my head / / i can't sleep un less i do / / here's my secret

i never write the title first
i usually take my last line &
make it the title / or take
the last title & riff on it some
how ///so i guess my ends are
all ways my beginnings / the circle


you see so much more in my work
than i do / but it all makes
sense as i read your comments

/ you see dear dee / i gave
up writing poetry long a go

now i just write / / does that
make sense ///

i'm honoured you would take the
time / interest required

thank you again lorna

~jennx