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unentitled [poem]


this one was written around the same time as the previously posted "fountain of you", which i mention because despite the content being fairly different, i find that there's a similarity of cadence between the two. i also think that both gain something from being spoken, although if you're reading this from a mobile device in public, changes are the only thing you'll gain from speaking them out loud is weird stares. but you're welcome to try. i'd consider it an honour. and no, it's not supposed to be called "untitled". sometimes, you just need to make up a word.

Unentitled
Written in skin
Story of what
Of what happened
What didn’t happen here?
The outline of a body
Of work
A story that exists in the frame
Choked into asphalt
Unspoken of in these ears
Ever. More.
Time becomes
Becomes us all
We become weak
In its grip
Become lost under our own bodies
Become thick with history
Our old friends polished up new again
Those stale old chestnuts
Coughed up like hairballs
As if digesting them would make them
More. Palatable.
These two are dried to dust
Too familiar devils tickling at our necks.
You did not say what I’d thought
You said only
And I’d thought there was a whisper
I felt there was another act
But those performances are made the same
Am I the only one that wonders
Why the costumes are so ill-fitting?
Or why the dialogue repeats at odd
Unmusical intervals?
The finery collapses, reeking of sweat
And mould
Of bodies put to use
And lost to ashy history.
And we all say goodnight in a cloud
Hands over our faces
It gets inside us anyway 
And it should make us choke.

Comments

as long as you're here, why not read more?

dreamspeak

ok, so i've been lax about posting here. i apologise. there are reasons. i don't know if they'ree good reasons, but they include:


i've had a lot of work to do, which is nice because i'm a freelancer and things tend to slow down in the summer, so the more work i get now, the less i have to worry about later [in theory].i started watching the handmaid's tale. i was a little hesitant because i didn't actually like the novel very much; i found it heavy-handed and predictable. the series relies on the novel for about 80% of its first season plot but i nevertheless find it spellbinding. where i felt that the novel beat readers with its politics, the series does a better job of connecting with the humanity in the midst of politics. i'm dithering on starting season two because i am a serial binger and once i know damn well that starting the second season will soon consign me to the horrors of having to wait a week between episodes. i don't know if i can han…

i agree, smedley [or, smokers totally saved our planet in 1983]

so this conversation happened [via text, so i have evidence and possibly so does the canadian government and the nsa].

dom and i were trying to settle our mutual nerves about tomorrow night's conversion screening, remembering that we've made a fine little film that people should see. which is just about exactly what dom had said when i responded thusly:

me :: i agree smedley. [pauses for a moment] did you get that here?

dom :: no?

me :: the aliens who were looking at earth and then decided it wasn't worth bothering with because people smoked even though it was bad for them?
come to think of it, that might mean that smokers prevented an alien invasion in the seventies.

dom :: what ?!?!?

me :: i've had wine and very little food. [pause] but the alien thing was real. [pause.] well, real on tv.

dom :: please eat something.

of course, i was wrong. the ad in question ran in 1983. this is the part where i would triumphantly embed the ad from youtube, except that the governmen…

making faces :: a lip for all seasons [summer edition]

this may seem like an odd time to think about summer, but not to think about coolness. it can be hard to wrap your head around the idea that summer is considered "cool" in colour analysis terms and, in my opinion, reads as the coolest of the cool, because everything in it is touched with the same chilly grey. winter may have the coldest colours, but its palette is so vivid that it distracts the eye. everything in summer is fresh and misty, like the morning sky before the sun breaks through. in my original post on the season, i compared it to monet's paintings of waterlilies at his garden in giverny and, if i do say so, i think that's an apt characterisation.

finding lip colours touched with summer grey and blue is, as you might expect, kind of tricky. the cosmetic world seems obsessed with bringing warmth, which doesn't recognise that some complexions don't support it well. [also, different complexions support different kinds of warmth, but that's another…