watching mad-pattern tangents converging
thick and sticking odd bits together
like bricks all mortared out of order
wide-awake alarm compounding tearing
holes in this flimsy filter--
this filmy membrane atop my head...
essence--heat bending light--escaping...
Breathing the fog
that covers my mouth
like a mask,
I savor the sublime--
like slow-drip ether,
it electrifies my veins.
Devon Brock
Wed 3rd Jul 2019 22:40
Rachel, I keep coming back to this poem to dissect the meaning of it, particularly how the title compares with the text. First, I'd like to applaud you on its opacity, because for me, this poem is an exercise in contrary motion. It breathes out, in, gags (mask). It goes up down, sideways, it bends. Even the title supports the notion. Thanks for this one.
D
Love the words, Rachel. Subjective but sufficiently powerful to make you keep on reading and reaching. Great, thanks.
Peter
elPintor
Mon 1st Jul 2019 19:26
Maybe I should reference insomnia in the title x
I particularly like the rhythm to this piece as much as the words you have used Rachel. I get a real feeling of the encompassing fog.
Nice one
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elPintor
Thu 4th Jul 2019 13:06
Thanks for all of your responses, comment and otherwise.
I heard an interesting idea yesterday...
mostly our thoughts come to us readily made in words, but there are some thoughts that have form without language and we must come up with a way to say them while protecting the integrity of the creative force behind them.
--just an idea.
Rachel