first draft of my first poem in months...
As ‘Heavenly Bodies’ by
Tamaryn played
I came out of myself, lost the way, was the river in the middle
of the road, the third
movement, the moving van, a targeted thing,
gossamer wing, the
last to fire on the smoking man; fiddle
with your days if you
can, until you break a string. I was
giddy,
lost, grown relatively fat, measureless to myself, on a high
shelf, but toppling; I fell in love most days, many ways;
shelf, but toppling; I fell in love most days, many ways;
should have been a
donut glaze; I floated like heat haze; broke
laws like others gauze;
runners ran through the tape of my dreams.
Was seamless, fragmented,
and head of the department of looms;
I ran from hall to hall
patterning rooms; was a shoe-gaze instrumental.
They could have put me
down as mental if they’d caught me then.
But I was so alone in
the music of dreamy unstoppable procession
of being forgotten; a
shoe in the back; coin under the shoe; more me
than you, but less of
me than no one at all; the sigh before the squall;
the breath before the
rattle; endless mindless universal prattle:
mitochondrion and collider, spermatid and nucleus, spattering.
poem by Todd Swift; revised online 28/11/2012
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