•
with my mind’s eye
I watch the flow of people
the shuffle of feet
with their different sounds
according to their shoes
I see wan faces of unsmiling lips
their void curves denounce this night
yet unseen
is the gossamer curtain’s fall
that defines their soul’s duality
the divergent reality
through which truth stumbles blind
to move in the world rough as a rope
taut as every promise made
frayed as wisdom
leaned in whispered from behind
grab at time like dropped money
I might learn something tonight
if someone will release the light
so I can shine like a child
who likes ice cream most of all
this child reads old mens’ minds
and notices the shoes
the belts all made of leather
I feel a shiver of sad imbalance
a confliction in my soul
so I will watch the shoes
and practice non-attachment
because I can
but pieces of me
stick to whoever gets too close
you may have seen me
silhouetted against the sky
the coldest night in January
howling with the frozen moon
then moon and I
sneak through fate’s construct
among cages of studs & trusses we run
from room to imaginary room
the whole world close enough to touch
we eat a midnight lunch of damaged bread
seasoned by caution and foreign lands
with onion’d thoughts layered deep
show mercy
peel back the layers
peel me away thin by thin
skin by skin
to my quivering soul
I hope I am not ugly in your sight
these thoughts become too heavy to hold
to tough to chew or swallow
my thoughts
bone-white lies of morality plays
open for you to peek
hope they are not ugly in your sight
hope they do not make you weep
as you peel back all the layers
onion’d thought layers
held fast and firm
like a carapace
to which I’m stitched and welded
and can no more leave than you can truly enter
they tie me down sometimes
but sometimes barely so
inescapable optimism in my bare-bones grin
flashes in the brittle moonlight
a stranger comes to where I sit
to see
his stare blinds the stars from my eyes
behind his fey smile
his radar dreams scan the forgotten creases
the clandestine getaways in my mind
standing over
he peers down with probing gaze
one of us
will learn a thing or two this night
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
____________________________________________
…an edited re-write of an earlier draft…
Your ‘Mind’s Eye’ is provocative and extremely well crafted … I took my time reading it, and you didn’t disappoint.
“grab at time like dropped money”
There’s something elemental in this line that sticks with me. Perhaps it’s the futility of trying to latch onto time.
Well turned verse as always Rob.
Wow! That is amazing, Rob!
Dear Rob: This is an extremely emotionally heavy and truthful poem about an eyeball or “I”-ball. Very interapersonal and impossible to truly analyze in it’s deeply personal mode of transmission. My favourite line is:
“to move in the world rough as a rope
taut as every promise made
frayed as wisdom
leaned in whispered from behind
grab at time like dropped money”.
Not sure about the exact meaning since there are so many multi-dimensions to this poem and secrets as yet unrevealed.
ly dynamicThis makes for a very intriguing and dynamic poem.
And like the “onion” peeled back to reveal bits and pieces of fragments of a life, pieces which are incomplete and not wholly known or formed.
There is a feeling I am getting, not knowing all the details of the particular personae of the character in the poem.
Perhaps the person is afraid of not being real or accepted once the onion layers are revealed;
“hope they are not ugly in your sight
hope they do not make you weep”
Sadly, most do have this pending fear of being emotionally accepted as they are and how to “opening up” emotionally in a relationship. There seems to be an inability to emotionally open up to another in wholly accepting way. Sadly the character appears to be carrying on a rather shallow relationships. I get the feeling the personae “I” or “eye” is fooling himself into believing that he will “learn a thing or two” from the brief encounter by passion’s moonlight.
Again moonlight representing the cold orb of an emotionally distant, although not soulfully lost but definitely lost emotionally; person.
There is a definite disconnect to the person’s acceptance of himself; sounding fearful when remembering a past relationship’s lack of opening and becoming truly full of acceptance and truth. Somewhat sad. (Did I analyze this at all correctly? It is truly very hard to analyze; it must be felt). I get it! I learned something tonight! You did it again, Rob! Thanks!.
The person in the poem’s relationship with people seems distant although the connection tonight is a “lesson” or two learned. Not sure exactly what one could learn being so distant on an emotional level. However, the soul does operate in unusual ways, and maybe this poem is WAY over my head. Which is a good thing. There is a feeling of deliberate elusiveness, holding back. Yet at the same time, I’d really like to know how the person is going to solve these emotionally vacant spaces.The eye or “I” has a soul but no heart? Hmmm…you got me thinking about this for awhile! Thanks Rob!
Rob–
A splendid piece of writing — grips my souls.
Joanny
Thank you Joanny. This is one of those writes where the muse grabs you by the hand and runs — wasn’t until later, when I looked back, did I have any idea where I was… 😉
“one of us will learn a thing…” Who could ask for more? Well done…
What more indeed Lyn… thank you! 😉
I love the notion of onion’d layers of thought.
I am pleased this resonated for you Willow. The years lay on the layers of thought, as we learn more, as we are disillusioned, experience joy, sorrow, loss, gain — these onion’d layers build and build.., somewhere underneath it all, “we” are buried… 😉
I love the tentativeness in this but my favorite lines are:
we eat a midnight lunch of damaged bread
seasoned by caution and foreign lands
with onion’d thoughts layered deep
and
but pieces of me
stick to whoever gets too close
the dance of relationships. I really enjoyed this one.
This poem was written in a kind of waking dream Dee, very surreal, but strong emphasis on real — it felt very tangible… the original seed of this poem has split inot two separate works, perhaps a third… it is a very tentative, evolving piece. Thank you for the kind words… 😉