witting (1)

for joanne

 

 

 

In the house

next to the empty one,

that I have promised to pay

for for the next

30 years

 

there is a basement

with walls covered with

thin, knotty wood

and another

 

bathroom where the air twists

with t**d and strawberry

scented potpourri. I have

heard

 

the wolf howls there, in a city

with no wolves. Sometimes

imagining the sharp, harsh

outlines

 

of ivory soap and hairstyles

arranged in strata; so smooth

this napless finish

I want to cry.

 

Revive the ancient spirits

left there to distillate

as if the blue rug

was the baked, clay

 

sculptures of an Asian burial

mound; the most sanctified

eidetic as if the lover

that

 

left the scented handprint here

has been so long ago

extinct.

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

One does not argue with the wise Mr. Simm; there is today here, the undertones of a city on the precipice, but there is also timelessness as well, emotions as old as "an Asian burial/mound." Extinction is a word of layered meanings which is applicable to any number of pasts, presents, and futures, and so this piece as well. Flat-out world class work.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

there is something about emptiness, the scent of once was years and years ago...the burial ground, the lover, the scented hand print.
the ghosts of many years ago....and that house which i have promised to pay for.

we pay with love and sweat to keep the ones we love safe and refuged...to keep them safe from the wolves...even if the wolves are non-existent.

your writing is so deep and thoughtful...and a pleasure to anticipate each line, each phrase, each twist.

[K. Louis]

The variation in your writing is beautiful. I really enjoyed the blue rug image...and the t**d and strawberry potpourri was a funny surprise... reminds me of the midwest...and the basement we stay in at my aunts in miller, SD...small a*s town. lol
Hey dana, you're good.

[Ken Simm.]

To say I am both impressed and moved by this would be an understatement. Each line tells its own full story. Each line composes itself around a thought, or indeed several thoughts. It is more that descriptive. It is more than metaphor. It is superb.

[Horizon K.]

... the wolf howls there, in a city
with no wolves...
Something to tiptoe through, so not to disturb the emptiness, the dust that still clings to the handprints over what has been lost. I love the detail in here, the attention on these fragments, drawn into such a poignant experience. Gorgeous!

[Corset]

only you could add a stanza that envolves turds and make it so pure with reality and human essense that even the hillside flowers would sway to the sound of music in their little Nun caps and green earthly gowns. I can never be sure whether one should recoil or shout hallelujah.” but I have to put my foot down when it comes to mixing fruit smells and human excrement, it just never quite does the job, matches my friend, light one and the throne is once again the purified air of pride and nostalgia.

[Emily B]

you've gone and done it again, conquered another mountain while i was off slaying imaginary dragons . . . your voice knows no bounds and it is good to visit here