Poetry Time

I was looking over some of my old poems on Friday night when I couldn’t sleep. For a long time, I wrote a poem every day with no real intention of revising them or making them any better. When I write poems, I don’t consciously think much past the title and the imagery. I think my subconscious mind totally takes over when I write them, because when I read them back, I don’t remember writing them at all. I might have been in some kind of odd waking-dreaming state.

“Luminiferous Ether” (written on July 17, 2009)

Something respires,
fainting, waiting in darkness

Spider threads falling
from a solar eclipse…

this is the fabric
of the universe,

delicate ponderousness
of a highway for light,

a something that never
existed at all.

Sound shuts off,
stopped in the whirl

of a vacuum,

a world breaking through
pixels — tiny somethings

blending together to create
something almost alive.

Something sleeps, tangible,
yet unable to be hit with fists,

respired, replicated,
universality in this substance,

this substance
pouring from an eye

of God.

I wrote this poem before my obsession with William Faulkner, and during my “something” phase, where my attempts to describe whatever it was were more vague than H.P. Lovecraft’s attempts to describe the horrors at the end of some of his short stories. (A reason I never cared for Lovecraft, and I figured, if he can be vague, why can’t I?) I think I borrowed the “eye of God” line from Sylvia Plath. I always enjoyed her poetry and she is one of my biggest influences. (I should say “was,” since I don’t write poetry much anymore.)

4 thoughts on “Poetry Time

  1. Sometimes, I think even if a poem is vague, I can still enjoy the sounds the words make together. So I don’t always bother trying to understand them or analyze them, just enjoy them. I like this one very much.

  2. “when I read them back, I don’t remember writing them at all”

    That happened to me when I was in a band. Someone came up with tape of a gig we’d done (a couple of years after the fact), and as I listened to it there was a song I didn’t remember at all. And obviously we’d practiced it a bunch, and then performed it at least one gig, and I didn’t remember it. And, based on the style, I had definitely written it. It was my song, and I had no memory of it at all.

    (And, in case you were wondering, I had the occasional beer in those days, but that’s it. :-) )

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