Is this from a painting? I can't recall the artist, but I know I've seen this oil of a blue city night, and an unblinking eye, just watching... it fits perfectly.
I "get" this poem in a very auditory way. That line, "electric birds" is brilliant. When you're eyes are drowsy in the city, all that train-clattering, wire-buzzing, bell-ringing clatter, is subdued-- becomes white noise. But somewhere --about 15 minutes before you've decided you're really going to wake up, the city wakes up first, and you surrender your sleep to the day. I also loved that scratchy eyelids at the end-- and the term "skin-escape". They must have been delicious dreams.
In our visions of Utopia there is no need of the healing heart of woman, the Florence Nightingale and Mother Teresa. It is often our damaged and wounded qualities as women that make us the most beneficent, bountiful and yielded, and pain can be courted as a means of self-bandaging, the tourniquet applied to stem our own flow of need. Sorry, this is an off-beat response and approach to a highly elliptical poem and one that leaves all in the mind of the reader and wonderfully open in its interpretation. I admire, as always, your power with words, crafting ideas and suggestion that fit neatly together like jigsaw pieces, distinct and fascinating as fragments and yet creating a whole new picture when pieced together. Bless you and thank you. Wishing you health and wholeness of being in 2009. Kate xx
Axilea,
This morning I saw a homeless man and I thought of "Andidote - She lifts" - it was that haunting. That man & your poem have been on/off my mind all day. This part 2 haunts just as much. Maybe those on the street are the only ones who see society clearly. A brilliant continuation here. Hugs,
Sheila
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Edwin
I "get" this poem in a very auditory way. That line, "electric birds" is brilliant. When you're eyes are drowsy in the city, all that train-clattering, wire-buzzing, bell-ringing clatter, is subdued-- becomes white noise. But somewhere --about 15 minutes before you've decided you're really going to wake up, the city wakes up first, and you surrender your sleep to the day. I also loved that scratchy eyelids at the end-- and the term "skin-escape". They must have been delicious dreams.
--Charlie
This morning I saw a homeless man and I thought of "Andidote - She lifts" - it was that haunting. That man & your poem have been on/off my mind all day. This part 2 haunts just as much. Maybe those on the street are the only ones who see society clearly. A brilliant continuation here. Hugs,
Sheila
Ron
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
This is deep and filled with such passionate emotion that it left me almost speechless...well done. My hat is off to you.
hugs
fee
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D