Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Sliding Peanuts Across the Wood Floor

Lately I've fallen for the idea of using line breaks to
maintain a serperate narrative within a poem as a whole.

My first try... With and without punctuation
to show breaks standing on their own...



In Transit


The last time I was here I knew everything.
The last time I was here I shattered

the shape of truth. It was an accident.
I put it back together best I could

but it was a porous, unnatural thing. Just now
I had been there. Way back,

where it’s bright black. I thought it
magnificent. Like children

think of jumping over the floating rope for the first time:
Finally. No worries, I’m back where I belong.

Where people shout out
before the gun can become

a furnace. Where people show off:
this is our first try.



I didn’t walk away from there.
I didn’t walk anywhere. The streets

scrolled by, a lithograph by bigger men
and I abandoned everyone then. Held

no one in me closer than I would
a pissing infant. The peel of the city,

a hard thing to pull back, even
right there, already inside.

I didn’t walk away from there.
I didn’t walk anywhere. The streets

run along my hair and into my scalp. I wander
them only when there is too much time to race.



...Without puctuation...



In Transit


The last time I was here I knew everything
The last time I was here I shattered

the shape of truth it was an accident
I put it back together best I could

but it was a porous unnatural thing just now
I had been there way back

where it’s bright black I thought it
magnificent like children

think of jumping over the floating rope for the first time:
Finally no worries I’m back where I belong

Where people shout out
before the gun can become

a furnace where people show off
this is our first try



I didn’t walk away from there.
I didn’t walk anywhere. The streets

scrolled by, a lithograph by bigger men
and I abandoned everyone then. Held

no one in me closer than I would
a pissing infant. The peel of the city,

a hard thing to pull back, even
right there, already inside.

I didn’t walk away from there.
I didn’t walk anywhere. The streets

run along my hair and into my scalp. I wander
them only when there is too much time to race.




...gave up half way, went with a second
section that works OK with either version of the first...

3 comments:

Charmi said...

I'm loving the erasures. I have to try that sometime.

Calder said...

Interesting... I think I like the way the first one read personally. Great stuff!

dane said...

Thanks, and thanks for reading too.