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A Lonely Place
| Open Poetry #46 |
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A Lonely Place |
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noman Junior Member
since 2009-12-26
Posts 18 |
Act 1 Furnace: I was delivered an address whereby I would recognize the offer arrived at by the discriminator. A guard was placed at each end of the wall, and so by observation we would witness consent or default. It must be rational. We must know. Shoal: I said, There is a time for everything. And in particular I said 8. But of the four therein listed, it was for everyone to see that they have been tested and are but beasts. Limit: We said, We have found the number of the event, and it was finite. Each quality was given a value, each count told. And on the boundary it is permissible that some space may exist. But within the parameter, no. Furnace: And we all agreed, It made no difference. On their route and in their way the exchange was noise, whatever it might be. Epilogue Night and Day: We have found the mark. It is the high place. ******************************* Act 2 Furnace: It has been arranged in advance. We measure the duration of events as distance. We measure judgment by the rule. And we wait. Water and Shoal: It is good to give thanks and praise. What is right without wrong? What is light without dark? Is there not space in the boundary? Does not the limit say so? And is not this the road to Hell? Limit: This has been a matter of close consideration and of deep importance to us all. By induction one arrives at the value which in turn gives relevance to the process. Only this way. We have not been mastered, we do but submit. Was there not a trial? Do we not bear witness? Epilogue Day and Night: They arrive between the tenth and ninth and out of the air. This was the intent. It was recorded and this was the direction. Artists and apprentices and officers in charge. So we begin to build the equation. ***************************************** Act 3 Water: I saw him examining it. He would hold it up and look into it. Then seem to pour it out. And look again. This went on many times. He called me over. Look. We are standing in a lake. It is something straight and round, something sealed and clear. And something like water. Forest: See how the base is linear. Pour it out as much as you like, it does not empty. This is true, and well-accepted. Now I pour, and it is gone. Weigh it, this is true. See how we commune? You wished to know. Water: It lay in my hand like cold glass. I have been assigned to see, but the curve of this knowledge escapes me. "I will report the thing that is not," may it please or displease. Shoal: We claim the seat of most authority yet perceive not the feral thing at our right. We desire a curve. We see horizontal. We desire right. We see the wide way. Epilogue Day and Night: We reach to the arch. Across the slow diurnal arc, we fix the camber we enclose the park. We are vertical, yet prone to the horizon. The common is the shade. Our lives pass slow diurnal as we observe yet not departure from the way. **************************************** Act 4 Furnace: It was assembled at the dock: the weight of it was not. But we received help: whatever they call themselves the gang. Gang: This is surgical, and a most busy day. It was close and damp and overwarm. And in the dark, we could see the spark. But by then it is made. Limit: It seems like the runt of things, I say, it is difficult to say. But for all that carnal. Water: The word repulsive comes to mind, after the initial. We made to avoid it if we could. We meant no purpose, but as it went, as avoidance turns to loathing, and loathing to contempt. Limit: Let us be exact. The heat was always with us. And they wished to isolate the thing. but for what purpose: as they said, knowledge. It is closed in, and property for all that. Epilogue: Missy, young girl, Let us discuss things. Move back. ***************************************** Act 5 Furnace: It has been hidden, concealed, or possibly buried. Something has been removed. And to inquire is to feign the sham we cannot claim. A stillness has come over everything. And I feel what I cannot name. Water: I touched it in the air something chafed, fallen and blue, a second state of things, as psyche the observing now observed. Limit: It rattled around the room, making contact. Nothing seen but brief and tactile. Other: Rotate, rotate, turn, strain, separate, not being a dictate to obtrude, not being a loop. Yet neither remove nor to discommunicate, I sit as a gargoyle on the gutter. Epilogue Day and Night: From down the arch pours the sky. From reaching, canopy and bower. We accept no assemblance of words but a series of sense in sound. Some say I. Some say lower. Some say thirds are round. END |
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| © Copyright 2010 noman - All Rights Reserved | |||
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GBride Senior Member
since 2009-07-02
Posts 538 |
outstanding. A lovely poem spoken from the soul. I loved this one |
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Robert E. Jordan Member Rara Avis
since 2008-01-25
Posts 8541Philadelphia, Pennsylvania |
Yo Noman, I’m afraid this one rather lost me entirely. Bobby |
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