A priority of needs,
a hanging garden,
weed words, never planned, disgracing the symmetry, a scurried rush for sunlight before seed fall, a flap of wingtips, the world delighting improvisation.
Failure as a new song,
simmer, ferment, brew.
Rime, surf, time and space foam.
Somehow we know too fast, act too slow. The heart can hold almost everything when it lets go. I, or this voice of I, have breath,
have oracular,
ocular, awkward,
backward walking.
Weed words,
green and flourishing,
through cracks and voids,
softening lines, wishing well, careless though careful. I grope, so to say, a tease of groundsel, a sturdy vowel of plantain. Self-heal and teasel, both mop purple from blue sky ( now the knapweed is hard and dry, a shell bone scatter). Us poets, us weed dreamers, taken up (now the swallows shake apart the dream summer) ripening appled,
though bitter
still delightful
with the turn of things,
the edge of autumn, a juggle of suns, a whisper of moons, a world re-webbed for dew of fallen stars, a cascade of frost. To keep the hearth, to gather in. See breath, turquoise, misted. As long as there is laughter, all is not lost.
Triangulate
September 3, 2013 by simonhlilly
simonhlilly 
this is lovely. especially the very last bit.
A tremendously aural piece. The judicious word choices land beautifully on the ear. Very well done.
Thanks, Mike!
I was awed! A surfeit of beautiful aesthetics in words that are architected in magnificent purity!
A seemly sew, so to say .
I hope this comes off as I intend. I am a very literal person, so I have a difficult time with poetry. I love it, but I often miss the point. Is there some way that I should read your work? A way that will allow me to understand, and therefore enjoy it more? This one in particular was easy enough to follow, but I am often lost in your play of words. Any advice for the layman?
Now, there’s the rub! The riddling, the metaphor, the ellipsis can make the sounds of words music, but then music can give emotional hints but rarely argument. So do we who art unclearly, what to do? (The same thing can happen with song too). Do we add commentary or allow it to be an adjunct to the verseform? I have no difficulty with that, myself. I write as I write like a skydiver falls, some control but ultimately not that much. The gravity of words takes over.
I enjoy writing this way, over most other forms, because the laid out argument, the balanced sentence, the structure can be modified. More than one point of view can be almost simultaneously entertained or changed or abandoned. Many linked notions need not be teased apart, word order can become archaic, or vague or pointedly not ordinary. It is, unabashedly, self-indulgent. But it is also pointless without audience, or empathy, or resonance. How can we alienate the minds of those our words for a while inhabit?
I am therefore happy, probably relish, the addition of my own commentary. Not simply as translation of meaning ( if I can indeed recall that, if indeed there was any to begin with), but also as a continuation, a further explanation of the themes. This is probably a Glass Bead Game of a task, but that is a valid representation of reality ,or the perception of it. A theme, a key, a melody. Something to whistle to oneself in the darkness. Then elaboration, exposition, fugue, variation. Starting any where, we reveal all things, if we continue long enough. The definition of existence by persistence of continuance. How one thing relates to all other things…
( thus, my prediliction for rambling on, indulgent, confused, pioneering, entertaining, tedious? How should we curtail the hunger for experience and limit enthusiasm for exploration? Sketch on a napkin or Sistine Chapel?
Music is the best analogy I suppose. We can follow one instrument closely or digest the general sound. Wallow or dissect. Wallowing, we can miss a lot of particulars, dissecting , we can discover new things but for a while lose track of the whole.
Sometimes clarity and simplicity is apt, sometimes layered obscurity is delightful yet frustrating. To what degree abstraction? There are very good poets here whom I rarely understand. There are even more poets here who tell a well enough story or scene but plod through with clumpy word boots on ( these are generally the more popular, because the story is easier, less work required). Maybe poetry these days is thought elitist simply because it does require some effort to chew enough to swallow. Slow cud.
Is this a rope to help you out of a hole, or to make a noose? The former I hope…..intention, anyway, a rope to reach……
I had to read this twice, because the first time around I kind of wanted to punch you. 🙂
Then I realized what you were saying. Enjoy it for what it is. Perhaps as an instrumental, or the exciting, beautiful, and perplexing sound of a foreign language. Enjoy parts thereof, or the whole in generalities. Don’t become focused on scheme, morals, protagonists, etc…. Just listen and picture… comprehension is secondary.
At least I believe that’s what you said. If not, that’s what I will take from it. I will say that I have always found your work to be gratifying, even when I’m lost. Now, I will saunter through your work with blithe assuagement. Thank you, Simon.
Yep, I reckon…..