I think I'll try posting once a day. Sometimes I'll post older work.
Whatever I post, I hope you'll help me edit and revise it into something better.
Today's was compiled over a few months and probably isn't finished.
It's hard for me to write like this, over a long period of time and without a driving emotion. I'd like to get better at it.
It's best to read through it first, but when you've given it a once-over, you can read about Clive Wearing here.
I was inspired by a friend who referenced him in her own work.
he shook when he felt too much,
forgot what it was or how to deal with it.
cut off from the shadows of memories
locked in another room, a forgotten key
i'd rather shake than feel.
some sort of expression
incomprehensible and random
exorcism of emotion
seems better than this possession.
every weekend ends in karaoke in a different city.
most people can't sing until they're drunk, but
here i am, cold-shower sober.
3 AM. 14 hours from home.
between cigar butts and bon jovi squawks.
plugged too deep to leak.
cracked too much to be full.
swaying my shoulders and singing
burning my eyelids, the stinging –
i'd rather shake than feel.
Whatever I post, I hope you'll help me edit and revise it into something better.
Today's was compiled over a few months and probably isn't finished.
It's hard for me to write like this, over a long period of time and without a driving emotion. I'd like to get better at it.
It's best to read through it first, but when you've given it a once-over, you can read about Clive Wearing here.
I was inspired by a friend who referenced him in her own work.
he shook when he felt too much,
forgot what it was or how to deal with it.
cut off from the shadows of memories
locked in another room, a forgotten key
i'd rather shake than feel.
some sort of expression
incomprehensible and random
exorcism of emotion
seems better than this possession.
every weekend ends in karaoke in a different city.
most people can't sing until they're drunk, but
here i am, cold-shower sober.
3 AM. 14 hours from home.
between cigar butts and bon jovi squawks.
plugged too deep to leak.
cracked too much to be full.
swaying my shoulders and singing
burning my eyelids, the stinging –
i'd rather shake than feel.
2 comments:
First off, kudos to you for referencing awesome neuroscience things. That's one thing I quite like about your work- not afraid to pull out specific science references, and if the reader doesn't understand them, the reader can goddamned look it up!
I like "I'd rather shake than feel", and the karaoke imagery. for whatever reason, "sitting between cigar butts and bon jovi" feels a little awkward. Probably because I don't associate cigars with karaoke, and the bon jovi could, in my opinion, bear a little more fleshing out - is it a person singing bon jovi songs? or who looks like bon jovi? or just referencing a song playing, in which case "sitting between" sits oddly, I think.
I don't like "the stinging"... it makes it a little too rhyme-y. I do like the "plugged too deep/cracked too much" bit as well.
I think the whole concept of the poem could be expanded upon, if you're feeling it. Less because it needs more added and more because there is just so much that could be drawn from the source material. I'd really like to see another draft of this one, actually.
-Rowangrove
I am terrible at assembling fragments; it ends up being such a battle for me. There's definitely something in this I want to save, though. I like the idea too much.
Was the door/key imagery or the exorcism reference too cheesy?
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