The Eclectic Pen - Bluff


By: Eva L. (wearetrees)   + 37 more  
Date Submitted: 10/17/2008
Last Updated: 11/4/2008
Genre: Literature & Fiction » Poetry
Words: 257
Rating:


  I am looking for you in these simple movements
these twists of the wrist –
these long notes
the lifeboat’s voice
in my nighttime tempers
the circular oratory of birds.
I walk around and around myself
looking for stolen property
the book on the topmost shelf
the dramaturge with his harpoon drum.
I don’t really know what I look like
from the back from below
between the stitches
eyelashes, veins,
big dreams resonant in the shade.
They might be wings, might be words
clumsy sermons,
lucid in the dark perhaps
they might be inside, they might
they might be inside me.
The beautiful, the bleak –
loose dirt from our last encounter
epitaph to our goodbyes
our goodbyes like bees.

I know you don’t wish to be seen
that you prefer to simply bow out,
if bowing was simple –
it must be graceful and benign
but we are not benign.
I know you try to gauge the distance traveled
by the imprint of the day on the horizon
towards which you throw your feet
take step after step
with what feels like supernatural care –
but friend, I am the one immersed
I am the one casting shadows behind you,
insisting you go insisting
insisting you stay.
I may wash my hands
turn them over and over in blind locution
Listen for the tide so I can mourn the loss
of itinerant sailors
boys like you,
sleepy tenants of mast and sail –
eager to be blown from the edge of the earth
by the salt the sulfur in waves
the heat of the body
I wish too to be blown, carried,
cradled by nothing I know
or can conceive of,
so far from home
so far
heart a prism like a honeycomb,
small worlds held and caressed by
the deity sun.


The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Eva L. (wearetrees)

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Comments 1 to 4 of 4
Sophira B. (sophiraness) - 10/23/2008 9:48 AM ET
I read it once, twice, three times - still the depth of thought and stream of consiousness in the writing left me feeling left out; as if these thoughts weren't meant for me - to see or hear, or even understand. Just when I begin to get it, the clarity curls away from me and leaves another mystery. Writing like this cannot be judged, but if you can grasp it, it can be appreciated.
Sophira B. (sophiraness) - 10/23/2008 9:51 AM ET
Ahh, I think...I think maybe i got it! The fourth time's the charm.
Eva L. (wearetrees) - 10/25/2008 5:28 PM ET
This poem is about...someone with whom I share a spiritual, intellectual and physical connection, but who is a gypsy at heart and cannot be contained by the world in my eyes; someone to whom I whisper goodbye over and over again because we are more at ease when we are apart than when we are entangled in each other's arms; someone with whom I can defy logic, revere the unexpected, challenge fate, but whom I cannot love with all of my being, and who cannot give me what I need - because I would take everything from him.
Sophira B. (sophiraness) - 10/29/2008 1:12 PM ET
Oh my, Eva. Oh my. even your explanation is poetic! Im loving your style
Comments 1 to 4 of 4