Knotness of One

Windless

rainless

watching

invisible movies

thinking

unthinkable thoughts

warming my hands

upon

invisible candles

listening

imagined sounds

and fading

with the 

leather and denim

of life

in a ghost

and phantom

of presence

no mark

or shadow

of the sinking

and sailing

of time

upon the ether

and metaphor

of me

stainless

stolen

broken

noise

a gift of

blue trumpets

in bones

Reviews

[Eilis]

The dreaming drought of self where everything and nothing exists. In imagination we become whatever we want or most don't want to be...according to where the mind leads.

Again, the loneliness of the modern human-animal strikes me in this. So much of literature in the 20th and 21st century speaks to the alienation of the man who is, in fact, surrounded. The paradox of modern living that drains so many of the gurgle of inward passion that keeps us looking at life as something worthy of moving forward with.

I like the way your format presents this order then chaos feeling as one side is perfectly straight and solid and the other continually alternates creating this jagged edge. The long single stanza effectively prolonging the feeling and connecting all of the ideas and keeping us there is the sense of driving and pulling back. Like a continual stop/start and then this light fade of an ending with the blue trumpets in bones.

Man, I like that ending. It is so evocative but also elusive. It makes me think of smoky jazz that meanders and feels like it may never end. And the mind gets lost there. Wondering if there is a road that leads to the settling of what a body calls home. Great poetry, Gram.

[gram linski]

thanks so much, Eilis, aye there does seem to be a lot of that all alone in a crowded room literature out there, that alienation and disassociation, you do it incredibly well, think it is a common feeling that not fitting in to societal views, loved your views on the format, never even thought of that, but it does fit well that jagged edge of life, you are spot on with the ending as well, there was the faint sound of Miles Davis in the background, his blues lifting the blues, thanks again for the great thoughtful review, always appreciate your visits

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Pretty much, Eilis has so eloquently expressed what this write does and where it takes the reader.
Sinking and/or sailing within our own selves...when we get outside of ourselves we are like
specters...wondering if we are real...is there a self that exists outside the innate self...yes, i do believe.
Outside looking in at our hearts and souls...
we are our own metaphor...and it is stainless...by the end of our lives, it might either stay that way
or become irrelevant ...stained, or broken...
I am of an age that I am hearing those Blue Trumpets..
in my bones.
j.

[gram linski]

thanks for the great review, j. thought your line about looking in at our own hearts and soul was great, there was that sense of what's reality/real-tea going on we are indeed our own metaphor, another great line, I always enjoy your insightful thoughts and comments always appreciate your reviews, thanks again