I am rich in words,
but words are shadows.
Every beautiful thing I can twist out of nothing
is just the fuck-you of a joke prayer.
The lens of the eye is a bald liar--
refraction masquerading as color,
upside down on the back of the brain
like love, like sky
the blue-black
of rotting
card sharps.
_________
You seem to know the words like intimate friends, they will do anything for you.
ReplyDeleteYou are RICH in words.
ReplyDeleteYour words soak inside, darling.
You are rich in so much more than just words. Words are just the pictures you use to sop up your soul and wring yourself out on this page. La La Mosk
ReplyDeleteRich is relative, and your wealth is something neither money nor grief can ever really touch.
ReplyDeleteI like what Kerry says - the words will do anything for you. Those closing lines are killer.
ReplyDeleteThis feels like you're reading my mind. Wanna go shoot a unicorn?
ReplyDeleteVery dark this time.
ReplyDeleteI don't know about this one. I love the writing as I always do, but sort of got stuck at the beginning.
ReplyDeleteI may not have interpreted this correctly...but even in my darkest times, words are a salve. They take away some of the sting from life's stickers, just by writing them down.
So, to me being rich in words, as you definitely are, is a gift.
This is incredible. You're saying that you're a master manipulator. That your ability to magic words/poems out of thin air enables you to get anything you want. But in the end, it leaves you feeling bruised and alone because you must keep everyone at a distance in order to "pull one over on them."
ReplyDeleteYou create all these beautiful things "out of nothing," but really, you feel dark ~ not at all like the sun that the world perceives you as being, but rather as shadow.
This is my favorite part:
"Every beautiful thing I can twist out of nothing
is just the fuck-you of a joke prayer."
It's like you're just passing time while trying to entertain yourself and get life over with. Maybe you even wish your prayers were more than a joke. Maybe it isn't "prayer" as much as it is "pray-er"; maybe you yourself are the joke, just as much as your prayer is.
Usually, the eyes give it away when a person is lying. But not so with you. You even have your eyeballs under control, which is quite a feat.
"refraction masquerading as color" ... What a brilliant line. What's bent and wayward about you appears as something beautiful, something colorful and natural.
Or maybe the end of the poem is actually depicting the card sharp having finally been caught, and killed. Maybe the body is literally rotting, especially if it's looking up at the sky. Perhaps you have much to say, after the fact. You wish you could tell someone what happened to you, but you're too dead to convey the tale. I guess you're left with only "rye chin words" and wasted wit.
I'm sure I'm way off, anyway. But that's what I see.
ouch!
ReplyDelete