Plus One
When you are alone,
who are you with. Who
can you babble to about
the building’s missing
epidermis, the red bricks
tumbling out at the roots.
Thinking is a type of
telling, of tattling.
Not like a megaphone,
more like how the air
above a flame crinkles
and blurs with energy.
Your halo is showing,
yo. A man once stopped
me, told me he was worried
about my aura, it was all
orange around my shoulders,
a bright backpack of pain.
How much do you hurt
right now. What if every
thought we stomped out
smoldered along our heels.
What might that mean
for the thoughts we allow
and how we advertise them,
would we be fire hydrants
dribbling image, hoses
spattering the sidewalk under
us with undeveloped film.
Thinking as tattling, thoughts as difficult to extinquish, individual thoughts as invisible travellers. As interesting as all these questions are, just as intriguing to me is what happens to a thought when someone else receives it - is it really the same thought?
ReplyDelete"...a bright backpack of pain." Wow. Your poems are always powerful in their imagery and sound.
ReplyDelete"When you are alone / who are you with." What a great and loaded question.
ReplyDeleteLove the image of the orange aura as "bright backpack of pain". Also "the building's missing/ epidermis" and the "undeveloped film" under us. So evocative and thought-provoking.
When you are alone, you can become a poet, or a one crumpling with your private furies. There are storms inside us that must die down. We ride them out,if we could, but we run through them and get wounded sometimes.Thereupon, like your last strophe, Hannah, we (poets) spew thoughts out like undeveloped film on the sidewalk.
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of a bright backpack of pain I'm about to walk to town with one and bring back some groceries. I'll think of this poem as I haul the weight home. Have a great day!
ReplyDeleteHa ha...since I have personal conversations all the time I can laugh at this...someone told me my aura was purple one day...some people see auras...I try to tame my thoughts. Have a great Tuesday Hannah!
ReplyDeleteOh, I like that big guy in the illustration. I think he needs a hug.
ReplyDeleteMasterful job of weaving these very different images of spillage together. As some say about football, the poem bends with each example but doesn't break. Very nice. I'm with the others re: favorite parts. The undeveloped film didn't register as immediately for me as the others, but it might have the most staying power of them all.
ReplyDeleteAnother stunner.
ReplyDeleteI sure appreciate your prolific consistency -- and that you so willingly share.
Thanks Hannah!
I agree with drew. Your cleverness output shames a lot of sites I read.
ReplyDelete