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Literature Text
Here am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.
I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze
like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.
Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;
safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.
I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze
like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.
Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;
safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.
Literature
Zemi
Things having to be returned to their transparency:
i.
/ green mist-earth / knit
atmosphere / fathomless
blue-lavender / lights
spun out from light
ii.
are recalcitrance / and you
are convergence
& - a fingernail of summer
- a melting of rain
- a crown of flowers
- a priest of sunsets
(beautiful? I love you, because. Zemi.
Zemi. are you beautiful because I love
you? Zemi? )
iii.
I imagine this is what it's like to breathe sea foam
over the Cliffs of Moher: hydration. absolution.
Literature
astronomers
when we're together
dusk is containable; the moon in my palms
and the stars on your ceiling.
we lull the city to sleep
with our theories of life; my tongue curling
into speech.
do you remember,
when Jupiter was a silver wick, lighting its countless moons?
that night,
you balanced a cigarette off your lips,
and I watched the vermillion flame burn life
as a newborn sun;
stars forming,
planets moulding and constellations snaked
above our eyes.
i imagined
what it would be like to be curled
inside the embers – creator and destroyer
of worlds,
so close to your lips.
Literature
London
the city glows
bright copper, a scandal in
oil colours,
a luminous quivering waste
of fog and smoke.
I feel on my skin
the harsh glare of street lights,
a thick caking of
make-up, the lingering
sting
of a parting kiss.
these streets are a string
of catastrophes,
a bright orgiastic tumbling,
the future glinting red
in a wine glass.
Suggested Collections
updated old piece
because
brothers,
there is nothing new to say.
because
brothers,
there is nothing new to say.
© 2013 - 2024 riparii
Comments60
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactI've not seen this one before. Poor investigative skills on my end. But I tell ya, I got opinions and ideas coming on this one. If I may ramble.... (like you'll stop me, or could, even.) Oh, and I don't critique well, but that shouldn't hold me back. Besides, you already got a snazzy one from LJ, so I feel no guilt for being less polished. <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/w/w…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" data-embed-type="emoticon" data-embed-id="387" title=" (Wink)"/>Here am I, repeated, <-- In my reading, even though it's proper writing and all, it has a backwards essence to it, almost like a question. Instead of saying I am here, with confidence, it has more of an Ok, I'm here. Now what? This isn't all there is to it feel to the declaration.
The second section is my favorite; it has that gorgeous imagery you're not shy about offering in your writing. It is there and continuing in the third section that I get the real heart of this poem. I felt like it's saying you're meant for this lifestyle. You've found contentment in familiarity and try as curiosity might, you'll not sway from what feels right.
On that note, if I'm even on the right note, I don't blame ya. I gandered at those groves and granite-sided mountains and they stopped my gaze, too.
The last two strophes - I love it when you lay a delicate rhyme. It seems so unintentional, but perfectly called for. It just very politely settled the feeling of the poem for me and made me feel at home.