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glossolalias — The Dead
Published: 2013-10-08 05:13:45 +0000 UTC; Views: 651; Favourites: 31; Downloads: 0
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Description
I have chemical wakefulness,10 dollars and 27 cents hidden last night,
somewhere around the apartment, maybe in the couch
or behind the drywall. The red stiff pillows are on the carpet,
my chest was stuffed with vibrations and tapered:
It's not in the kitchen. Not in our bedroom,
but you have forty dollars in your wallet.
Your body's in airspace. Maybe you had dinner,
your parents' favorite restaurant,
or called Richard while you smoked in the parking lot,
talking:
feather hymns, exosongs, traffic tones,
a late ride home, long straight roads, flaking paint,
creaking sway, bitter drip, dragging lights,
dark skin,
a choking fit,
his nihilistic faith, a repetitive twitch,
how he appreciated with his fists,
and you were 23,
thought everything was plain
or symbolic:
"I'll pick up something for dinner,"
but I only spend 18.60 at the supermarket.
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Comments: 6
I enjoyed the crap out of this poem, but had a hell of a time trying to understand all of it. I tend to either vastly overthink or underthink when it comes to poetry meaning, so it could be I'm grasping for something that isn't there.
The numbers were the main thing that threw me off; they were so specific that I was trying to assign meaning to them and couldn't nail one down. I have my own interpretation of what you might be saying, but I'm not sure it comes through clearly.
The poem as a whole felt like a blurred out snapshot of a moment that altered a relationship, or where the change was acknowledged or recognized. The language had both an ache and a sort of numb detachment that were very interesting together. It felt like quiet desperation, even in the way you described looking for the $10.27. It's an incredibly subtle but effective emotion that you created here, but the subtlety of it makes me question whether its something I'm overreading.
Either way, the first line is precise and powerful; the whole poem really.
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that is definitely the effect i was going for. as for the numbers, i have to inform you that you are reading too far into it: they're just part of the narrative, actual numbers from actual events.
thank you!
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haha, good to know; I spent an unhealthy amount of brainwaves trying to make them add up.
always welcome, I'm just glad to see you around here again.
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This piece packs a lot into a few lines. Perhaps my reaction is explained best by the stanza:..and you were 23/thought everything was plain/or symbolic.. I feel like I've 'been there/done that' often in life. The rest is great imagery, and the numbers bring it 'round to what's spent for dinner [and my question about who the dinner is for]. my chest filled with vibrations and tapered - at this rate, I'll be quoting the entire poem back to you! The part where you write about feather hymns is particularly interesting. I can't respond to this very well, sorry. I mainly write prose and don't really know poetry, but this one is a fave. You're very talented.
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thank you 
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you're welcome.
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