this is my beatitude
this feeling
can I ask myself for more?
in my bloodless years, I was
so worried
but I never opened up my door
my mantra, it can begin
with undiscipline
put together from coming apart
I sit in my childhood room, and I
settle the dust
I ask myself where did I start?
my new mantra will be just
the latest words on my tongue
and the rest will have to find its name
I hold on to the center
then let it go
and watch my world spin just the same
02/1/08 at 1:16 am
Your piece at IB was incredible, and really intense to read– so I can only imagine what it was like to write.
Some beautiful images in this poem, too, like the dust settling and the last line.
02/1/08 at 1:37 am
thank you so much! some of the imagery here I half-borrowed from Tao te Ching. there is a passage with kind of a shitty translation, but it ended up sounding nice, if incorrect.
Close your mouth,
block off your senses,
blunt your sharpness,
untie your knots,
soften your glare,
settle your dust.
This is the primal identity.
oh, and I know what a neologism is…but I can’t find one on your site unless you count “pointful”
but really, that’s a well established, importantful word.