only road-dust to float you now. without a body. through the swinging eye. roof into dust. window into pile. wind exile. you would have gone. but not so soon. you say as a stone in my dream. every morning. woke. photograph. one of three kneeling women. scabbed knees. the smallest, lightest tree. no more wall. but the window. water I cannot move through. oranges. candles. a driveway, a moat. my watery, glittering eyes. horn. wave. always to goodbye. the last picture ever taken of you. weight on me. gravel loose under toes. you are small like a child. like a dead child. in a river. in an eddy. caught in swirl
3 comments:
very powerful, I love this!
Thanks Scott.
I feel like it needs a lot of revision, so let me know if there are any suggestions. . .
I don't think it needs much revision . . . maybe "wind exile" could come out? Anything would be minor tweaks. But that's about it. I want to come back to this one again and again, and I think it's partly because of the block structure you use. The rectangular form places this fantastic tension against the fragmentation of lines, as if you had a neat perfectly square box full of jagged glass that tricks you (from its border, its outline) into thinking geometrically, while the language is as lush and myriad and dancing and extendable as could be. The contrast is remarkable and I'm tempted to try shaping in a similar fashion. I will be disappointed if I don't see this one in print.
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