Often,
I sleep on a tightwire
with a balancing pole
rising
falling
like a pair of oars.
Often,
I am busy organizing,
counting, ordering
items
that only
exist in my dreams.
High,
wearing shoes with grooved soles
making my way to a 15th floor window
all I
so want
is to get it all down
on paper and set in boxes.
Awake,
it all reduces in an instant
to pointless nonsense.
Ah me.
Impossible
and silly besides. Sometimes,
someone loved me--they're gone too.
Often,
this splitting of my mind
is like an updraft out of my everyday skin.
My useless
looping tasks
give me purpose, and comfort
and favored faces alongside.
Often,
morning makes off
with these impossible pufferies
and I
rise
but it feels like falling
very fast, from height.
_______
for Word Garden Word List--Let the Right One In.
Music: Bronson Know Me
So tenderly written - the strength to keep climbing, the busyness that helps us process and perhaps keeps us going when things are lost or waiting to be remembered a tightrope of thought indeed - Jae
ReplyDeleteWow. This one Knocks. Me. Out. Your mind is an amazement to me. So many lines that resonate - and the closing lines are just perfect.
ReplyDeleteto me...you have written a universal poem that reflects the lonliness of today's existance. these endless, pointless tasks that we do to feel alive and in contact....but with what? I love this poem, Shay....it reflects life formany of us....right to the heart and soul of life today.
ReplyDeleteWow, you capture dream-state and the waking moment in such a remarkable way. I love the structure of the poem, tight like that tightwire, and that staggeringly perfect close.
ReplyDeleteI am inarticulate in the face of the honesty and purity of this poem. As if I, too, have fallen from a summit of meaning into an abyss of sticky quotidian trivia. Beautiful, simple but sumptuous writing Shay. It years at the heart.
ReplyDeleteTears, not years. I hate autocorrect all it symbolizes about current "reality."
DeleteThis really hits the spot and that tightwire and 15th Floor really hit home. Great writing.
ReplyDeleteYou have really captured all those thoughts that can run through one's mind in one's sleep. So much pointless nonsense looping. And yes, the loves that are gone too. Powerful writing once again, Shay.
ReplyDeleteVery "tightly" constructed, the temerity of living on dreams like a high-wire act, the sadness of waking up to "reality" woven into a singular voice of living through/in spite of grief, because "Sometimes,/
ReplyDeletesomeone loved me--they're gone too." Heart-wrenching poetry, Shay, beautifully composed as always, my friend.
The journeys we take in dreams can take us through so many scenarios. There can be slices of nothing, and deep dives into what brings meaning when we open our eyes. This is so beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteSimply a gorgeous poem, Shay, but it's that final stanza that does it for me and that phrase "impossible pufferies." 👌🏼
ReplyDeleteYou had me at “with a balancing pole / rising / falling / like a pair of oars.” But really nail it with “ this splitting of my mind / is like an updraft out of my everyday skin.”
ReplyDelete"Often,
ReplyDeletethis splitting of my mind
is like an updraft out of my everyday skin."
This is incredible imagery, Shay.