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almost one

feigned politeness of being with another
appeals to you, though it wounds deeper,
moving closer to a backlash of proximity.
desire, again, implores the human,
burns through corpses of incriminations
while May’s bitter showers find
more unimagined signs abandoned
than held onto.  the inner voice tune
                                            is sorrow.    
the next breath, you win it back by accident.
vivid, unrenounced, through the heat
of a utopian solstice you resume your walking,
and through a colossal leap of faith
stand anguished, hot with drought,
building a giant stone-bank with your hands.
somewhere along the pilgrimage
of making strangers of bodies,
the memory of the fire threat passes,
volatile as a bad dream's ghost;
its ashes form an ember, white,
no longer burning, but also no longer a flame.

9 May 07

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This is beautiful Maria.

I love the tone of this. Reluctance maybe.
Lines 11-15 knocked me clean out. There is so much in those lines, said and implied.
I can taste the heat from the drought, the despair for looking to find relief.
Building stone-bank makes me think of an artillery or building a shelter from the shelling.

"Somewhere along the pilgrimage
of making strangers of bodies"- Doesn't that just perfectly sum up the journey. Meet, to forget.

I love how your poetry takes on the tone of the reader to some extent. You help them, but ultimately (to me anyways) my own personal feelings echo in the lines. Driving it straight home.

I've missed you terribly. I'm so uninspired these days, devoid of inspiration. This is amazing. You prove that you never loose your touch, Never.

 — unknown

nice poem.
 — hank

wow maria. i'm short on time now, but i'm most definitely going to be back to comment on this again. i haven't talked to you nor seen you in forever. i hope everything is well for you.

i'll write you a letter sometime.

until then,
 — midare

thank you Jess, Hank and Jake for your comments
I do appreciate them very much
Midare, I am well, I will write
 — slancho

oookay lets see if i can still do this. :|

overall, probably my favorite of all the poems you've written, or at least
my favorite out of the ones that i've read. it's consonant, meaningful,
and just altogether damn fun to read.

first stanza: very eloquent depiction of our (human) desire to arrange ourselves, gather ourselves, link ourselves to other. we find company in others, simply for the idea of finding company. it results in a meaningless collaboration between people, where token emotions, much like paper money, are exchanged without an underlying principle. we can only hurt ourselves through recognition of the self in others; without a mirror, would you still know who you were? would you still feel sad? lonely? happy, even? we recognize these things in others and covet them, arrange ourselves in different strata dependent on who has what.

second stanza: noooo idea what the world improles means. is it a form of prole? like, you're becoming part of the ordinary, the mundane, the basic (working-class, etc?) if that's how you're using it, then it makes a good lot of sense! desire, as a concept, is a lot like that of proximity, of recognition. we see things outside of ourselves as catalysts, objects that we covet and then strive to obtain. others, beyond the original sight-want initiative, become caught up in the motion;  they, too, are measured on their desire, even if it is a lack thereof. thus, desires, through their exponential multiplication, lose meaning -- they simply become hollow echoes, desires of desires, so to speak. the rest of the stanza follows in this matter, i think. unimagined signs abandoned, pure brilliance. amazing, maria.

third stanza: interesting. i'm not quite sure what to make of this. vivid/unrenounced, utopian solstice/leap of faith/giant stone-bank. hm. someone, in realization, working against the grain. that's what comes to me, at least. heat/drought seem in reference to a desert, which would itself be a reference to the barrenness and emptiness of our human interactions. the leap of faith is the resistance to doubt, the beginning of differentiation; however, though as sure as you might be, differentiation is always a cause for misunderstanding, longing, and unhappiness -- although those feelings might be fleeting and short-lived. giant stone-bank? blocking off the self from others? i want to think wall, but then i want to think river bed, too. bank of a river. getting closer to the river. hm.

fourth stanza: brilliant. simply amazing, maria. the fire threat, the metaphor of heat and emptiness and of fire itself is a perfect way to conclude this poem. physical proximity is combustion. desire is combustion. renouncing the two is also a form of combustion. we cause friction as we move, even as we pray that we do not eventually burst into flames, because we all know that most of us are not phoenixes. but eventually, you settle; the friction slows, vanishes. we remember what it feels like. but it is simply just that: a memory. we toughen, grow thicker; our bodies, instead of shying away from fire, harden to it, wrap around it, use it. we cannot move without it. hm.

maybe i'm confused. i don't have any poem nits for ya maria. this is perfect as it is. as always, your words give me a chance to stretch my imagination and hopefully maybe make some sense. i hope everything is well with you. write soon!

 — midare

gorgeous poem.
midare has evaluated very well. so i won't say much except leave some suggestions -

the inner voice tuned to sorrow

and also try
by accident
in it's own line like you have 'is sorrow'.

all well, i hope.
 — varun