a grand circus gesture with the twirling baton & high-up swings paints the scene with many bodies & the heads are all both looking at & composing the commotion
& then in the crowd i see you, & it is the most beautiful thing. moonlight mixes with noise to create syrup in the tent’s fog but across the elephant you are smiling & we are holding hands in a dream we both wrote wordlessly.
i sing to myself through your vocal cords & it is just only now with you when somebody says my name correct, & a thousand gongs burst through each of our ears as the ringmaster conducts us in an orderly fashion of nods & kisses,
all the things we like of course are fusing into an enigma of constructs interpenetrated by a fuzz you felt at six years old, sitting in the kitchen with the drawer open. it was the circus & the kitchen, & we were both there, separately.
you said you saw the tile burst into shapes they weren’t supposed to be.
I love the spectacle of this poem and how it transforms love into something more akin to recognition, like finding the one person who understands your strange reality. same with how the poem stacks all of these clauses onto itself in this really claustrophobic way - that really adds to the circus / performance / dreamlike atmosphere.
you said you saw the tile burst into shapes they weren’t supposed to be.
thought this was such a great ending!
In a shadow there is the blessing of a shadow. — Kuki Shūzō
Your opening poem sort of reminded me of Alice in Wonderland - just an otherworldly image of odd happenings and experiences together - quite an interesting reading effect! Hope to read more from you this month!
you should know i am a time traveler & there is no season as achingly temporary as now
Romance, humor and mystery - this really was the entire pack!
in a dream we both wrote wordlessly- such a beautiful way to describe unconfessed but reciprocated love <3
you said you saw the tile burst into shapes they weren’t supposed to be- oh, is it magic or delusion? How very intriguing indeed!
Great stuff to begin with, you've got my attention for sure. The imagery about the syrup was so unpolished yet good. I'd love to read more from you, perhaps this thread could do with a little reviving?
your hands have seen the inside of a carborator. they've been blackened by grease & bloodied in your desperate attempts to clear the clouds out of your head. seattle is our ocean, water all around to drown away memories, never our own foreign lake, somewhere close to mount st. helens, or so we thought.
new friends old friends celebration in sweaty embraces chanting screaming stumbling outside the gates of eternity sidewalk where we gathered round the sordid soapbox & cast beleaguering gargantuan buildings & endless cataclysmal streets into abeyance.
Hi mantra!! I'm late to commenting, but I wanted to leave some thoughts!!
I love the idea of shared memory that is not exactly shared here > The clearest version is in the circus poem: “it was the circus & the kitchen, / & we were both there, separately.” In “circling vultures,” there is “our ocean” and “our own foreign lake,” which repeats that paradox: something can be ours and foreign at once. In “making room,” the friends form a temporary collective body, but the poem’s energy depends on the fact that this unity is fleeting, made in the moment, held together by chanting and proximity.
^^^ Really interesting ideas about urban life, love, connections in a vast world, feeling a little lonely/hopeless with your future. Great job!!
What holds you betwixt panic and serenity? That is, if it's not among the many querulous quagmires unfit for elaboration. — soundofmind as Emiliano Achillinus
