#1
I have seen the end of days,
the beginning of others,
and am no wiser for it,

know no more about the universe
than were we without days
or years, numberless, purely relative,

seeking no justification, only
a sleeping mat, where I find you,
failed at waiting up for me

mumbling incoherently, a book
about astronomy slipping off your breast.
I think I catch something about earthlike planets

found by their effects on stars, gravity
of a large object shifting an even larger one,
starlight slightly dimmed by an occasional pass—

another world between us.
I undress then set the book aside and turn off the light.
You wake up when it goes dark,

and we lie in silence
as one year becomes another,
and someone, using stars, can prove it.

But I am the same because you are the same,
and the world we are left with
is gradual in most ways,

like the fog that takes the window—
it reminds you of something sacred:
a hospital, christmas morning, being happy

as her body was reclaimed,
the cold sting in your eyes rushing
to the edge of the snowy parking lot

the pine needles uncovered by your hands
on the windshield, and the christmas card
with your planned last words forgotten
in the passenger seat.

The windshield fills up again.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
Last edited by jiminizzle at Jan 23, 2015,
#5
This guy, Mark Wagenaar, who went to my school. He's very nice. It's from this book: http://www.32poems.com/blog/4170/voodoo-inverso

There's a 'moth hour gospel' (better than my title) and a 'deer hour gospel' (about the same) in it. Very good book of poems. I'll have to send him this one as some form of acknowledgement.
I spent something like 8 hours over 3 days trying to title this. that was the best I could come up with.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
#6
Right off the bat I detect a feeling of cynicism in regards to science. Either that or merely an expression of how little we know despite the vast amount of knowledge we acquire. I sense a correlation between the narrator and the woman and the stars although the relationship is unclear to me. The quality of the fog which incites the warm feelings is also lost on me. Is the "you" and the "her" the same person? I like your celestial metaphors I just feel like there's an overall message that I cannot detect. Whether it is that I am too ignorant or the piece is too vague I did find this very thought provoking (I read it at least a dozen times). I'd be interested to hear your explanation.
#7
don't know if it's worth explaining those things, but since you asked about a few certain points... pardon the reductionary nature of these explanations. just simplifying so you get it. if it's unclear for other people too, please let me know where and i'll work on it.

her = unnamed character, related to the 'you' somehow. it doesn't say exactly, but it's probably a mother or grandmother type figure. someone who might die, and no matter how nice your last visit is, it isn't enough to get you through it easily.

fog can kind of make big places feel small, small places feel private, block out views and leave you only with what is near and immediate.

the stars inform our existence in some greater way, but our relationships with them can feel sort of irrelevant at times, in the same way that the outside world slips from site behind something as simple as fog, we can get caught up in our own spheres. the car is a direct recurrence of this.
there may be some ambivalence to the science of it all for making these things feel so temporal, passive, and consequential only in a small way to some greater progression, but the speaker and addressee don't do anything for new years, so they are already starting to feel this way in some capacity. If there is any escape, in knowledge or experience is what I guess would come next.


thanks for your comment. i'll take a look at some of your stuff in a bit.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
Last edited by jiminizzle at Oct 23, 2013,
#9
Quote by jiminizzle
don't typically explain things beyond a certain point, but this one might be fun to break down a little more so hopefully you get something from it. pardon the reductionary nature of these explanations:

her = unnamed character, related to the 'you' somehow. it doesn't say exactly, but it's probably a mother or grandmother type figure. someone who might die, and no matter how nice your last visit is, it isn't enough to get you through it easily.

fog can kind of make big places feel small, small places feel private, block out views and leave you only with what is near and immediate.

the stars inform our existence in some greater way, but our relationships with them can feel sort of irrelevant at times, in the same way that the outside world slips from site behind something as simple as fog, we can get caught up in our own spheres. the car is a direct recurrence of this.
there may be some ambivalence to the science of it all for making these things feel so temporal, passive, and consequential only in a small way to some greater progression, but the speaker and addressee don't do anything for new years, so they are already starting to feel this way in some capacity. If there is any escape, in knowledge or experience is what I guess would come next.

thanks for your comment. i'll take a look at some of your stuff in a bit.


Well I hope I didnt ruin it for anyone by asking for some context. Reread it and I appreciate it alot more now. It evokes a range of thoughts which I think all come from the words and the setting, your tone seems matter-of-fact throughout which I think makes any emotion the reader can glean more rewarding. I guess this must be poetry.