of russet potato chips
just so i can listen
and get lost in his voice.
we kiss at the light
while the car is stopped
and the people behind
honk their horn at us.
i am not a robot i insist
as he presses one finger
into the small of my back:
this makes me move forward--
involuntarily.
i am learning to tolerate,
and in some ways appreciate,
stupidly spicy dishes
because he does all the cooking.
after watching a scary film
he complains about his arm
hurting from when i held on
too tight.
to fall asleep in the car
is if i rest my head
on his shoulder or lap.
we call them "the kids";
my childhood teddy bear,
three little stuffed monkeys,
and the bear we rescued
from the side of the road.
my hand is fused to his chest
as we lay on our sides
dreaming about pancake diners
and organic spaceships.
when i get up in the morning
he rolls over onto my pillow
because, he says, it smells like me.
-------------------
NOTES on 1/30/06
under construction syndrome
we have all voiced our opinions on the matter of what has happened to this poem in it's expansion. some of that subtlety, some of that innocents (or care or whatever you want to call it), seems to have vanished. i am tempted to keep only the last stanza at this point. however, the process of thinking up these moments, condensing them, molding them, is so much fun that i don't want to give up on the piece and settle on a three-line-long poem that could be much more. my idea for this poem now is for it to be presented as a collection, individual poems--untitled and unnumbered--and spanning over several pages so that each moment might have the gift of all that empty space. it's too long here. it's over-board on trite, and i know this. so this poem, you see, is in mid-drafting phases. i've decided to let some sections go (like the previous one about fingers and eyelids) and will continue to update this post with added sections as i deem fit. keep commenting, please, so that i can gage my progress through your eyes as well as through my own. you guys are fantastic, i wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for you. thank you all so much!
4 comments:
I like these stanzas of all of them:
we kiss at the light
while the car is stopped
and the people behind
honk their horn at us.
i am learning to tolerate,
and in some ways appreciate,
stupidly spicy dishes
because he does all the cooking.
i am not a robot i insist
as he presses one finger
into the small of my back:
this makes me move forward--
involuntarily.
my hand is fused to his chest
as we lay on our sides
dreaming about pancake diners
and organic spaceships.
when i get up in the morning
he rolls over onto my pillow
because, he says, it smells like me.
--
kqhnc
i think i'm going to keep this piece open for changes... add bits, take bits out, refine... it feels a bit too loose for my liking. though, i am enjoying the process of working on it very very much.
-----
zasyrssb
Katy, what happened to the first version of this? (I think, when you edit a piece, you should keep the first version for reference.) And I have to say, I can't remember the first version exactly, but I like it more. This is a bit too belabored and deliberate. The first version had that sweet feel of spontaneity about it, a collection of almost random moments that are enough to paint a fuller picture. This has the feel of an extensive laundry list of moments that lose that charm. Sometimes I think, as Mies said, less is more...
don't fret, dear ashraf, i still have the original, and this is by no means a final draft. like i said, in complete agreement with your comments, it's too loose.
-----
epshzu
Post a Comment