And just for fun time's sake.......This has no title yet either.
The color of your walls
has no real name.
When I sit on your couch
before the low oblong table
the dark paint, stagnant,
apathetic as mud,
watches from each wide surface.
I play the game of turning
your apartment upside down:
walking up the verticalness
of color, crawling across
the picture frames. I force my hands
into shelf bottoms, scratch
book spines against palms.
Towards the window, parting the
blind slits sideways, the buildings
spear sideways. The cars drive up,
down, and suddenly we are much
lower than ten floors, much higher
than could be allowed --
Feet first, towards the mirror
that hangs over your dinner table.
Your living room multiplied;
Sickness, an obscure shade.
1 comment:
aaah, i like the revision, esp. the end of the third stanza. the dash also extends that vertigo sideways.
i noticed that, past the first stanza, your line breaks change and change the sense of the poem along with them. in the 1st, they fall at fairly predictable, punctuated, places, but by line 8 they are unstable; the ends attempt to orient with directional words like "turn", "down", "vertical-", and "across", but to no use. i feel dizzy; this continues, along with the narrative that becomes more and more incomplete (shifting from the 'rightness' of the 1st stanza into sentences that begin with prepositions and un-verbed (as it were) statements, i.e. "feet first, towards the mirror".
one thing--what about placing some other punctuation in place of the period after "Your living room multiplied"? (like a colon or semicolon)
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