glass hand melting face
glass hand melting face
By Dan Raphael
got so turned around I fell into myself
when I shut out all my senses I float as if I cant see without gravity
once my eyes are in space each star could be a burning sweater
can something without sides be empty
go to mass
without energy where can we sleep nothing soft enough can hold me
hammock strings burning through my clothes
how color is forced into a vacuum the glassblower inhales
a gallery full of lungs—knit, molded, torn from stone
canvas must be stretched in silence or the painting wont need you
I can make pictures appear on my skin
I tried to stomp the fungus but it cut through my shoes
“india†is all I can say one globe growing through another
can you be allergic the first time
when everything is frozen thirst is a bad move
what stays closed stays whats transparent will always change
for a flash my hand felt a thousand years of the beach I was on
hard to breathe for almost a century
when im angry feed me paper when the fire goes out, follow it
my rosary of rain cloud fingers lightning rod
I worry the beads til they sprout, making my hands too heavy to wave goodbye:
look for me behind you, reflected in windows
each house killed several trees
if i dont look up the rain wont touch me
no cotton without rain, no shirts without people
I finally drank what was smoldering from a cubic inch of ash
I made a new york times a shoulder-high cigarette
the leaf was transparent from beneath so many aphids I thought it was rush hour
shit… i donno why no one has said anything about this.
“my rosary of rain cloud fingers lightning rod” is a nice enough image to inspire something.
no?
well, you know, commenting intelligently is hard work. this was a pretty impressive poem and every line is packed to the gills with good stuff, but I can’t even say I have a handle on what the intent of the poem is. The line that grabbed me, on first read, was “a gallery full of lungs—knit, molded, torn from stone.” There’s nothing quite like a gallery full of lungs.
it does take some time and thought to reply to a poem that someone has worked on. i’m guilty of not doing enough of it myself, but with the launch of the new site i’m hoping to gather some energy and continue to comment more. it makes things more interesting. literary dialogue is good.
I agree entirely. So I read the poem again. And again. Obviously the intent is surreal and carried off beautifully. I think the first line is a perfect diving board into all the imagery that ensues. And what ensues is very much like this line – “what stays closed stays whats transparent will always change.”