I spent today writing a poem. You haven't seen many of my poems lately because I really want to submit them for traditional publishing. Most journals won't accept them if they have been shared on a blog. Which is sad. Because actually Steemians are my favorite audience, Steemit is my favorite place to share my creativity. I understand the competitive market out there and magazines want original content too. That's why I sit on a lot of my poetry. But its kind of unsatisfying . Its nice to write a poem and share it when it is still fresh, because I am communicating something about that moment, and I would like to communicate it TO someone. I am also a process person. I like the process. I like throwing things out there that aren't quite done.
So I am sharing this poem with you. I have included a very short video of me walking in the hills mentioned in the poem, with my dog who is also mentioned in the poem.
Background of the poem:
The basement venue where I am performing tonight is inaccessible to people who can't use stairs. I have friends who cant come see me perform there. I wanted to create something to explore the environment and all the questions that go along with it.
I am teaching English as a second language while studying for a huge licensure test which could really change my life because it will increase my earning potential but its all been super intense to balance out all the pressures on me currently. This poem has elements of that in the form of language lesson and psychology references because its also about the constructed world and our ability to navigate it
For all these reasons and more I allowed the grammar to fall apart sometimes. It will probably work better read aloud than in this post. But its intentional.
The raven story is true. Happened on the same hill shown in the video at the end.
This is a work in progress, I will probably edit it again after reading it tonight. It's meant to be read aloud. I am actually trying to fast make this post before I go!
image source: Wikimedia
Ability
The dog's nose on my ankles urges me toward his dish. He is a good Shepard, and tells me when he is hungry. Some days if he didn't do this, I would forget.
d/ l "du" "elll" d/ l
= deaDLine. Put the tongue against the back of the teeth, no , higher, the roof of the mouth, no , lower. Put the tongue there and stop the sound. Deadline. Let it leak out the sides.
We could go up the stairs so I could show you who cant get in here. How did we get down here. How did we make it into this room. Where were we just before? In a different space? What was that space like? How did we move through that space? How did that space feel? Did it have walls? Did it have a vibe? How did we get here. Did we see, did we navigate, did we drive?
You carry your rooms inside you , that’s what it means when you dream you’re in a house. Example. The train sounds grind through my organs, pushing out half the birds. One of them , a raven, flies over the hills with a stone in its beak, bringing it to me. We’re halfway across the valley, standing on a path in silent talking. I see the steps to him and I begin to cross. The jealous dog jumps. The raven flies. The stone sits with the stillness of the past on the path. All the words we would have had are lost.
The English language. The more you look the more it comes apart. Banana. Buh NA Nuh of the unconscious mind. Make it with something you don't know it structure/ocean falls apart against the sounds.
The rules aren’t written. They are encoded in our inflections. She says “sofa” “ i think the says “so FAR” , oh, sofa, you mean sofa, just change the stress. Get your body squashed by pressures you cant see. Neck pain. Shoulder pain. Anxiety crawling around under your skin. How did I get down here.
A dog knows 165 words. I have to make more money by May. My dog doesn’t know Deadline. Timeline. Time. I.
Stop the stress and let it leak out the sides. Let your dog be your guide.
Feel the way up the stairs. What your body does with all its rooms. To meet the ones that cant come down here, who aren't even waiting anymore, flew away. Move the ravens wings inside your body to find the raven you may never find.
Move them through your organs up the concrete wooden metal step mindful walking up the brick wall up the waterworks down the hillside up the hill again.
.
.