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September 17, 2006

Another new poem!

I guess I'm on a roll, though I dunno about the quality of the poems I'm writing these days. Nevertheless, it feels good to be doing something I always loved and have not had the motivation or --something-- to do for a long while (except for the recent rewrite of "Beggar at the Feast"). I think I was brought face to face with how long it's been by an interviewer who asked me precisely that last Friday...and I had to think, When did I last write a poem I was proud of? Anyhow, I had to answer, Several months, which struck me as terrible, that I had neglected it for so long. No more. You may get sick of me posting poems here, though I hope not. On the other hand, perhaps I won't post every one I write, since some literary mags consider that to be "previous publication" and won't accept poems that have been on the Internet. I believe that may apply only to formal poetry sites that actually e-publish on-line poetry, not my little blog, but I ought to find out. Anyhow, the following poem is once again drawn from experience (recent) but you should understand that I no longer feel as I did. NOTE: the line "doesn't speak for days/But on paper" means except on paper, that's the kind of but I mean.

ADMISSION: PSYCH WARD, 3rd FLOOR

In again, she wraps herself in zombie weeds
Can’t, won’t, doesn’t speak for days
But on paper, with a thumb of a pencil
They will not sharpen
For fear she might “do
Something.”

What she writes is this: I’m sorry--
I told him I was poison--
No one ever listens--

They listen now, don’t they,
Everywhere, her name, even on TV
Talk of her, conspiracy...

She’s a clarinet off-key,
Shrieking without words or tune
With consequences like a core
they are so inevitable:
You must not shriek on The Third Floor.

Eating half a shadow’s food,
She fears she could die inside
These walls, growing cold, cell by cell.

Someday there may be nothing left alive,
The furnace of her heart as shuttered
As brain, bowels, bones.

All life is water and so at last she will flow
Out of her warmthless skin,
Sense the change and swim
Towards the Sea,
Bodiless,
Free.

Posted by pamwagg at September 17, 2006 07:12 PM

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