This won't make ANY sense to you, but it does to me. And sometimes poetry is about finding the truth between the lines, right? It was good for me to write something without grammar or tense, without my usual English major correctness. When you look inside yourself, what words come to you? These are what came to me.
a steady salty blow, there again
coarse cords and rusty knots, sweeping back
a darting deep throb, a pulse bleeding home
warm swirl, writhing cries slow
a marker fleshed and clothed, remaking me cold
sore and coated broke, wreck remote
a light pass by, handles me low
reverb and nerves, caustic, heal the bitter
a knock new life, behold desertion ceasing
soothe below the gauged pierce lie
a rock me now, close a lamb
verbalize heart unswayed, no tremor
a dumbfounded treasure, requench move
mm, no roving bestial tick
a looming soar, pressed in sky
lo...a thorn-bled rose, enrobed silken love
My soul doesn't use grammar. Or words, for that matter. I listened to the song "Oceans" (the one from my previous blog entry) as I wrote it, and I think it helped me to get down inside to where my truth is. It was good imagining myself on the ocean floor, walled in by water, away from my labels and explanations on the surface. That's how it is anyway, for me- this soul stuffed deep down inside me, covered in organs and blood and skin, walled in by individuality, opinions, thoughts, impressions.
And all these ordered words just don't quite explain how it feels, how it is. Rather, a handful of mix-matched adjectives do. I hope you know what I mean.
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