The poem floated my boat. Once, as a boy I stood on the porch watching raindrops fall form the eaves. I don't know at what point I came to believe the raindrpops were stationary and I was rising, but I do know at that point I fell off the porch. You poem knocked me off the porch
We have those days...those days when we are adrift in the reality of our own circumstances; lost inside of our own minds. I've been there...I'll probably be there again. I love the imagery you've used in the lines "When you call my name,/Just know, you may have to call again/before I come back to you."--from the faraway look to the second calling of the name...brilliant. Loved this one, Emily.
What I really like is the strong image in the last lines, that implies at the same time distance and nearness, an image full of tension that exactly sums up the way relationships are...Great.
Sometimes it's not enough to be sought after. We need to be needed. Desired. Anyway that is what I take with me, after reading this melancholic ghostly piece.
I had a love affair once that broke off without the tissued courtesy of a call.
I waited and waited but the gluttony of pride keep us from calling eachother.That
"I wont call her until she calls me" vertigo that gives seperation it's wings.
"i'm neither here nor there
adrift in a sea of senseless noise
battered by waves of unrecongizable emotion"
Asleep in two time zones,I hear, I hear , the call, but the room is large, veiled in red, I want you too to cross the rivers door. I will leave ,I will leave a totem,veiled in black,
again, again, I call, and no one ,no one.
Once more a very sincere work that says so much and yet says it in few words. A true gift. It gives the feel of tranquillity and simuntaneous lostness.
to the Lost Boys
I am no Wendy;
but my voice brings you back to me.
And you sit around my feet,
anxious for a story
or a kiss.
Listening to my words
spinning adventures,
like so much g.. more..