I like the subtle rhyming that appears in the second half "see...obscurity...feet...me" [oh, and the internal "obstruction...frustration].
This is an interesting piece; it's requiring a fair bit of analysis and figuring for me to comprehend it. I'm enjoying the challenge. Is it about the struggle to articulate your thoughts? Or someone who criticises your writing? Or someone who praises it, not getting that you haven't conveyed "the visions" yet?
Hmm.
"Or do you point out fuzzy dryer lint clouds
on the edges of obscurity?" - they're paying attention to the wrong bit?
Good piece Emily. I still don't have it figured - but not in the bad way; despite being a little out of my reach, I can still savour the language and images, and relate to the overall tone.
This is a good and thought-provoking poem. I read it as being built around two questions:
"Can you see..." [what I am saying] ?
"Or do you point out..." [meaningless objections that show me that you miss the point-and therefore I am on the road to nowhere] ?
However in the second half some of the wording confuses me as to whether it is about the reader or your own assessment:
"My words fail again" vs an implied, "[as if] my words fail again"
"And I don't know what to do
with the frustration that surrounds me." vs "[As if] I don't know what to do..."
Those are just some of my thoughts. It is very good and I can relate to it as well as enjoy reading it.
Very organic. I like how you allowed the poem to simply come forth. The scapes of a thinking mind is displayed here...perhaps moving at speeds of up to 200hp! You mind-meld with yer reader; forcing us to acknowledge ominous clouds upon the horizon...that horizon being a thin zone of mania and ecstasy...when maybe all we(the reader)wanted to do was enjoy the rush of squealing wheels negotiating the 90 degree turns of an asphalt maze! I'm amazed at how the poem actually clips along considering you force the reader to consider the piles of obstructing vagaries and nuances of life that can clog the well tuned engine of the mind like so much sludge fouling-up the valves of a stockcar engine! You went with first thought best thought, and it worked well here. I found myself tingling to know the possible motives of you including the lines:
"Or do you point out fuzzy dryer lint clouds
on the edges of obscurity?"
...when you initially seemed hell-bent on negotiating the maze with abandon and allowing the wind to whip through our hair! Suddenly, thoughts went to sludge and reckless abandon became cautious and measured, full of unsuredy, as if the freedom was not going to be allowed to flourish. The repressive bent you applied to this poem also moved swiftly though; as I stated earlier, and even with weights around your ankles, you held the reigns of this poem all the way. G8 wordsmithing here Ema. A dualistic poem. At once free, yet within the confines of a maze, of the mind.
One of yer strongest in my opinion. FAV.
I say, put the pedal to the metal and shatter those walls that confine! Take the shortcut out of the maze by charting yer own path right through the freakin walls!!
I think this piece is brilliant! As writers, we all wonder, "do they see what I see?" "Can they recognize my epiphany?" OR do they miss my point, and instead, point out some menial, less than important, component of the picture? I feel you here. Em. I traveled with you on this one.
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..