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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 5 of 5. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by kid_A on March 20, 2002, at 11:58:06
DESTROYING THE EARTH
AFTER SUNSET
When there is a
little sleep
there is an apocalypse
God puts his finger in the
dike and the water rises
to the top like fire
In the end we all
go like this, Noah
aimless and without
direction--
spectres without rest
without a home to
soak our feet
When we were young
we slept in the dead
leaves like angles
making faces at the
sun, hung in the
sky like a wreath of yule
like a watch ticking--
breathing its heat
on us like a rapist
i never knew
it could be like this, but
when we get older we
see the sun as it truly
is, the last vestige
of hope for the
sycamorei can't say that i
know the sun, too far
away to be touched
like you were to me
simply a phantom
and when i made to
grasp it, it slipped
from my fingers
like smoke
i should have known
better
i should have known--
but the sun forgives
like the Father
and so it forgets
and in a time i would
too, growing to loose the
ghost that hung its
albatross upon my neck
i should have known--
but the sun gives
no secrets, it lies like
one of usAt night when we put
on our sleep like a
skin, there are wolves
that cry at the moon
vexed, and want for daylight
something to baptize them
something to forgive,
and in sleep there is
nothing--
and the mountains
crumble into dust that
you blow from your
hand--
and the seas become
a desert full of fish
and i hold you here
perhaps there is a kiss
i don't recall,
perhaps, for a day, but
when i wake
nothing--
just an empty bed and
bottle--
and empty hands
and like that stupid
song, my grandfather
had sung to me
when stitches made
my maw, i held my head and
cried, cried something--
something, yes, something
not unlike a
wolf.
Posted by Lou Pilder on March 20, 2002, at 13:11:41
In reply to new poem: DESTROYING THE EARTH AFTER SUNSET, posted by kid_A on March 20, 2002, at 11:58:06
Kid_A
Could you explain the significance of your title, destroying the earth after sunset, to this poem? There is something in the title hat Iam deeply interested in. Thanks,
Lou
Posted by kid_A on March 20, 2002, at 13:44:31
In reply to The signifcance of the title » kid_A, posted by Lou Pilder on March 20, 2002, at 13:11:41
It means that when we sleep, we die a little bit, and we leave behind us the 'real world' for a world of dreams and nightmares, the real world can either welcome us back from a horrible nightmare, or leave us wanting for the dream we had left... in any case the reality of daily life is destroyed in dreams...
Posted by trouble on March 20, 2002, at 19:13:23
In reply to Re: The signifcance of the title » Lou Pilder, posted by kid_A on March 20, 2002, at 13:44:31
Kid-A,
Decent piece of work.
Hypothetically speaking, could you provide an explanation like the one for the title for every line in the poem? It just seems like I miss so much, just skip over so much...If someone doesn't understand major characters and ideas in a peom do you think it's worthwhile for them to stick w/ it and get whatever they can or should they use a dictionary and world encyclopedia and look this stuff up and do you know how long that takes?!
trouble
Posted by kid_A on March 21, 2002, at 22:15:21
In reply to Re: The signifcance of the title, posted by trouble on March 20, 2002, at 19:13:23
>
> Hypothetically speaking, could you provide an explanation like the one for the title for every line in the poem?trouble, i wish i could give an anotated diary of every word, i wish that somehow i could explain the way that i feel, i wish some how that there were words...
I supose like Gauguin, I'm asking myself, Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?
my poems are just junk really, everything that they couldnt stitch inside of me, what was left over on the opperating table...
hope, and lust, young lust, and kisses, and horror, and moral terror, loss and emptiness, wanting and reckless abandon, the beauty of youth, the untouchable, unkillable beauty of youth, what i think i am, what i could be if i could be it, what a God might think of me, what are words...
i'm not trying to be overly dramatic, ive had a long hungover day and im tired, but i mean what i say, these words, and you can indeed forget them, like all words should be forgotten... because words will never kiss your forehead goodnight.
A.
This is the end of the thread.
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