Single black eye

Esoteric poem

Woah. 

Trying a tad too hard there, aren't you?

I saw from the look on your face.

No, no, don't worry. I don't mind. 

See, I'm that way too.

Is it fine if I sit here?

What?

Of course.

I'm good at things like that.

Welcome.

Full. Arm the cannons!

The cylinder is full.

Full of what?

It's too heavy.

I disagree.

You lift it.

A medallion dangles from the edge of my table. Its lid halfway open, I glimpse a single, black eye...

Reboot. Rearrange. Reform. Synchronize! Keep it together! 

Separate.

The room is dark. The medallion lies on the table, hanging halfway open. I glimpse a single, black eye...

The room is dark. The room is dark. The room is dreary. The room is dark.

The room is gone. Gone, gone, gone. The room is made. Gray, gray, gray. 

The room is gray. I spy a medallion on the table, melted down into a swirling whirlpool.

A medallion dangles...

A single black eye...

Hypnotized. I'm hypnotized. I gaze into the depths of that single eye. I'm lost.

I reach a hallway. It's dark. Dark like everywhere else. But I am not dark.

I am simply tiny.

I plunge through the ceiling, which contemptuously spits me out to the other side.

It's raining out. Dip, dip, dip. I gaze through the drip-drops. Lances of water, crashing against the pavement like a forest of spears.

Rain doesn't bother me. I gaze through the drip-drops with my single black eye. I can do that.

I can.

With my single black eye I spy darkness. More, more, more, everywhere I look. 

I look at the sky. Black. I glare at the wall. Black. I gaze at the ground. Black. 

I must be blind. I know I must be. Mad, too. Why?

The corner of my eye is not black.

The look on my face...

It's not like you can see something like that.

My single black eye is invisible.

And yet...

It was seen.

Yes.

I'd like that.

Please do. 

I feel like smiling.

Author's Note

It does have a story.

It's just very, very esoteric. I guess I'm good at that.

Reviews

[S. B. Fosy]

I am very much a fan of presenting literary devices in threes. It seems like just the right number most of the time. The "start simple, end simple" approach serves the work well. Things to say:

The first ten lines are an interesting read, I actually paused and restarted the poem to really absorb the conversation and imagine the other half we are the voice of, yet never privy to. It makes sense, people remember what is said to them much more clearly than what they say themselves.

This poem seems like it would benefit from having separated stanzas to definitively signal when the poem has shifted to another point of view or theater of mind. The shift in perspective after the tenth line is well timed, but the italic lines left me slightly lost as to exactly what perspective we shifted to. Is this the original speaker from the first ten lines, plus another? Is it two entities separate from the first? Is it a singular voice with multiple personalities or conflicting thoughts? Nothing that inhibits the impact of the change in presentation, just questions that popped into my head as I read.

Lines 11-16 project to me as either an alternate scene or a flashback-style memory the reader (the character that the reader is representing, specifically) very nicely, but the formatting of the italics can be interpreted two different ways, and I'm unsure of which is the correct one. At first I thought the italics were the thoughts of the reader, but the last italics line makes the presentation seem like a split psyche or personality within one character. On the other hand, the italics could be the voice of another character that is interacting with the reader, either in real time or in this "memory". The assumption based on the poem's presentation up to this point lead me to believe that everything was dialogue, but upon finishing, I wondered if the entire poem itself was a mix-and-match menagerie of the reader's memories or thoughts. Put shortly, what do the italics signify?

The transition from line 16 to 17 (You lift It./A medallion dangles...) is another place where a stanza separation would work. The POV changes from self-referencing third person to first person, but the change in setting seems the same. This leaves the reader floating in the dark about who they are supposed to be portraying, so it falls to me to make the choice of whether the original speaker returns, the current one is still going onward but from the view of another character, or if all of the characters are actually different aspects of the same (singular) entity.

From line 20 onward, the way that the reader seems to spiral downward is fantastic. Like falling into a bottomless well in slow motion, watching the light at the top grow small and smaller to tiny extremes you never thought existed, but it never disappears. Very well done, "I am simply tiny" was an excellent line in an excellent place, that really kept me on the rails here. It's so easy to turn a good poem into a rambling poem.

The last four lines are the biggest hang-up I have about the work. Back to my point on structure, these last four would transition better into the work if their was a signal that a viewpoint change could be coming. The shift back to the beginning (at least that is the confident assumption I made) where we are being talked to, rather than talking ourselves, is a good idea. However, here, it doesn't have the effect of a journey coming to a decisive end or a cycle returning to the first step. It let me go without telling me anything more about what was actually happening. I was expecting a return to one of the early lines, or a solid implication that everything between the first ten lines and the last four happened in a brief moment as this conversation was unfolding between the reader and this character that is speaking to us.

The last line (I feel like smiling) flipped the beginning of the poem to the reverse of what I thought it was. I figured it was dialogue, something being said to the reader, but this last line is not something that someone would say. It's something someone would think. At least in my mind.

Overall, the unvarying structure of this poem ends up hurting it in the end. Honestly, there are no words I would omit from a draft of this edited to match my own tastes. It's a very solid and well-written poem with excellent pacing, imagery, and reader connectivity. Nicely done.

[Mikael Malmberg]

Wow, thank you so much!

I like your interpretation of the poem. How should I explain this... well, I'll say one thing about italics. There are two definitive voices in this poem; the italics signify the second of these. (There is also a "silent" voice, belonging to the reader or to a mysterious entity)

Your criticism on structure overall is well-received, since that is the area where I put least thought in - almost nothing at all in fact. It was more of a decision I made in the beginning; "everything is going to be a single line" or something like that.

Though, at this point I have to admit that I don't even know what, exactly, stanza separation is. How would I create this in a poem? It sounds like a useful tool, if I can use it to mark the spots where I want to separate two entities.

[S. B. Fosy]

Stanza seperation is a method I use during the drafting process, but can be applied at any stage of writing a body of work. Divide the poem into sections based a particular mechanism. This could be the mood of the lines, setting, who is speaking, line length, day of the week, which ones summarize the bold dressing in that salad you ate yesterday. Anything.

Every poem I've ever written is the sum of (usually) many smaller parts. I often put single lines, couplets, and small paragraphs together to form a larger body of text based on how well I think they flow and communicate what I'm trying say. It helps me pick out lines I'm not satisfied with, as well as pick out lines and concepts I want to express with more detail or recurrence. Every poem I've written that ended up as a single body of text (like the "Folks" series) was at one point many little ideas.

By separating them, I can more readily adjust and fabricate my transitions between them, decide where to end a stanza and start a new one, or even decide that no separation is needed at all. This is particularly helpful when you get a pang of inspiration and write down a lot of material in a very short time. Going back over it and picking it apart, I find, is an excellent refining system.

In terms of this particular poem, I felt that making each point of view (or shift in point of view) it's own stanza would better demonstrate to the reader what is actually happening, allowing them to read it more fluidly.

Of course, that's what I use and it's my preference. Everyone has there own methods and preferences, this is just what I chose to do. Typing this reply, I realize it was not exactly fair to expect that. I hope I explained that okay.

[Mikael Malmberg]

No, I think it's a good method to use. Myself, I don't quite have a method to the madness - I let it come out naturally and more or less release poetry as I wrote it. Unlike the actual prose I write, I don't tend to pick apart my poems - perhaps I fear I'd just make things worse. I will definitely try out your method, however - letting the piece of writing dry in the air for a while and looking at it at a later date is never a bad idea.

[Mikael Malmberg]

As a side note, upon re-reading this poem I already notice the different take I have on it, now that I've read what you had to say about it. I find myself able to pick out that second voice in a different way. Thank you again!

[The Girl on Fire]

Whoa that was just left me....speechless! It's too good, so deep & complex yet well expressed easily.
Beautiful poem. It indeed belongs to the ones very rarely found.
P.S. It would make awesome rap music too!

[V]

This is a very interesting piece of writing, strange but entertaining, a dynamic monologue studded with a lot of images melting together. You paint with words, not many are able to do so as vividly and as clear as in this poem.

[Akshita]

Nice work....Enjoyed it! : )