Poetry / The Glass Bed
(In dorm rooms the students smoke their pot,
Blogging of T.S. Eliot)
I have abandoned cotton, relinquished wool,
packed all comfort tight in giant, Ziploc bags
so full that oxygen can’t wriggle in. No warmth
possible down inside where memories
of soft and tender sleep now lie.
All must be angle, memory and light.
Diamond cut and water cooled. I circle, ever wider,
mind on horizons, focused outward.
I shove aside all coverings, all sheets of conscience.
Freakish, ending-blind,
beginnings – who cares? Moment is the tinder,
dry, fast burning, instant upon instant. Feeding
eyes. Lidless, without mercy, without voice. Orbs of sky
blue, bottle green, remember nothing they
have seen, nor ever cry.
Stretched out, now, perfect, in my skin
and hair, my nails, sweat, spit, bone, blood,
everywhere, blood. Thin as water, nearly
clear, and spread flat out, I drip it down
in waves too trivial to hear.
Circle me, circle, from above.
I ask
nothing
as I bleed liquid glass,
nothing but this relentless glance
I assign myself instead of love.
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TaleWeaver the author’s storytelling, writing and creativity book/game, at www.lulu.com/awhavens
Blog is at www.TinkerX.com
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This is a beautiful poem. The title reflects the wonderful mix of words within the poem. The imagery is almost overwhelming-which is a good thing. It sends the reader floating along to see the action from above the words. I found that I felt so many emotions and even recalled tasks and the feeling of doing those tasks even thoughts within the tasks. Most important, and I think that this is the meaning of the poem, I felt the tasks of storing the emotions of a newly lost love.
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Wow!
I could feel the power as I was drawn into this piece. Even your quote from TS Eliot was a draw.
I love the way the lines are seperated and laid out. It’s sort of the way I like to lay out my artwork. Not quite the way it should be, as you want it. Bleeding liquid glass, how beautiful.
T
October 04, 2006
Deleted User
First off, delete the comma afer giant. I love the third stanza the best. It’s busy and full of image.
But in the fourth stanza “too trivial to hear” blows. Why ‘hear’? Why not “feel’ or ‘see’? Either would work better.
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