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Open Poetry #34
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Mythology of Lost Memory
| Open Poetry #34 |
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Mythology of Lost Memory |
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Mistletoe Angel 
since 2000-12-17
Posts 32816Portland, Oregon |
**********Hanky-Alert!  **********Mythology of Lost Memory (The Language of Wildflowers: Adonis Vernalis) By: Noah Eaton 12/5/04 Caricatures of breath, Rush from the temple of my spine, I can’t discipline the look back, Conveying the rituals, Of oceans of nurseries, I feel waves I’ve never seen, Heartbeats that were never my own, Broken fingers I tuck away in my dresser, Abated breath is white noise, And I become the metaphor, an attic of abreactions, I’m your primordial crosshatch, and you touch my face, you say, “Allow me to demonstrate!” wash away the five o’clock shadow, with a stipple sponge, because my shadows can’t be imitated, to my thighs are where they lunge I know somewhere there’s a word, It’s only because I’m a late bloomer, That I should have sorted this out sooner, I’m sleeping with the cancer, the twilight sleep, Acculturation difficulty, Where you’re cue gathering, My own integrity, Within the history of anxiety, Mythology of lost memory. Sometimes I hear you in the rain, When it’s sunny outside, Doves of anthologized promises, Waffle in my bedroom at my feet, Like they’re on the lobster shift, I feel they don’t feel me, They only recognize me, recognize the lavish eyes, the swank ears I wear, trying to find some explanation of the blind, explanation of my tears, yet still, I know somewhere there’s a word, It’s only because I’m a late bloomer, That I should have sorted this out sooner, I’m sleeping with the cancer, the twilight sleep, Acculturation difficulty, Where you’re cue gathering, My own integrity, Within the history of anxiety, Mythology of lost memory. Longing to unzip my tears with your fingers, I pretend to be sleeping, Inspecting symbolic reminders, Tempted to tear off the primitive bandages, I’m the stowaway in these identity crises, On greyscale ravines of sour water, Peeling away the motions like packages, I only see how it is to bleed, From a whole new perspective, You know I’d adopt your utensils of clarity, You know I would, But the more I squint, The prosopagnosia runs in, Gets to the point, That the bottom line, Is you don’t know how I feel, Where I see your influence cringe, From a distance, All you seem like are lines are circles, I practive this method of Ioci, So I can place your eyes, Your hands, Your patience, Your unconditional acceptnace, But you’re well aware, I’m not memory savvy, And there’s nothing, That can bring me back together, All because I’m not the same, All because I’m not opposite, All because, Of my dressing apraxia, It’s easy to love someone you’ve always loved, It’s easy to love that numb feeling, But mother, I can’t feel myself anymore, Each distortion of a trace, At a life so young, Gets me further away, From ever fathoming my effect, And generally, I know somewhere there’s a word, It’s only because I’m a late bloomer, That I should have sorted this out sooner, I’m sleeping with the cancer, the twilight sleep, Acculturation difficulty, Where you’re cue gathering, My own integrity, The history of anxiety, Mythology of lost memory. The history of anxiety, Mythology of lost memory. "You'll find something that's enough to keep you But if the bright lights don't receive you You should turn yourself around and come back home" MB20 |
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| © Copyright 2004 Nadia Lockheart - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Enchantress Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113Canada eh. |
Noah, there are times my friend when I want to reach through the screen and give you a big healing hug.. this is one of those times... ~Heart hugs from me to you~ ~ Let peace begin with me... ~ |
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Nightshade
since 2001-08-31
Posts 13962just out of reach |
Noah, I join my sister in that hug for you. Awesome write my friend. Chris Don't forget my presents!! |
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Earth Angel Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215Realms of Light |
You may have been a "late bloomer" but you have grown into a magnificent, multi-petalled flower. Through adversity you have grown and continue to glow!  Wrapping my "wings" around you, Linda |
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wranx Member Elite
since 2002-06-07
Posts 3689Moved from a shack to a barn |
Noah, mythologies are tales of the "Hero's" journey. I see this in your poem...Very nice, sir. |
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