Mood: Metaphysical

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NEVER IS LESS
Than the emptiness I once made of it, your confusion
crosses the sands of time, a cracked hourglass of regular rain,
where you were shaped exactly the way I remember admiring.
But still, we panted at more than we ever could handle, broke
formation and asked to be wed in the Grand Canyon,
with dynamite for a nightlight.
(They’re still writing off the echoes.)
Our professor once professed, in phosphorescent fashion,
“First thought, anticipated stranger …” Such was the way
I embarked on this painting, these colors streaking
my pupils until reality and its raw sugar content
could no longer be deciphered from the storage kept
beneath the series of beds I lay my length in. Somehow we
all assume the rip-off artist, the stranger we hope
will take us each-to-each, breast-to-breast, and hold onto
well beyond the 16 millimeter candle that flickers ahead.
Once the pixels forgive the confetti we’ve been riding,
they explain dire things we now don’t mind forgetting.
An example of full disclosure witnessed since admits
the death of the Spirit left the angels in a strange position.
They are alone with us here, for the very first time.
Wings began to rustle, polling each breeze that passed
for a person’s human sight. We became accountable
in ways as yet unpredicted. And my balloon façade took
your eye away, up higher to the point among
a string of clouds airborne blind, where the puppet pulleys
appeared, revealing we’ve been tugging at the wheel all along.
Amy King
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Two more baby poems, possibly about you, found here.
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p.s. PUSSIPO Reading on February 28th — 8-10 p.m. in Atlanta, GA @ Eyedrum — I’ll be reading with some kick-ass women. Click here to find out who-who-who.
9 Responses to “Mood: Metaphysical”
AMY KING View All →
Amy King is the recipient of the 2015 Winner of the Women’s National Book Association (WNBA) Award. Her latest collection, The Missing Museum, is a winner of the 2015 Tarpaulin Sky Book Prize. She co-edited with Heidi Lynn Staples the anthology Big Energy Poets of the Anthropocene: When Ecopoets Think Climate Change. She also co-edits the anthology series, Bettering American Poetry, and is a professor of creative writing at SUNY Nassau Community College.
February 14th, 2007 at 2:35 am eEnjoyed this a lot, and loved this immensely:
“An example of full disclosure witnessed since admits
the death of the Spirit left the angels in a strange position.”
That tickled me.
One question, however. Is that Plato on the left, and is he carrying a book that reads “TIMBO” on the spine? I mean, I enjoy a little popularity, but I’m starting to think he’s obsessed with me.
February 14th, 2007 at 1:21 pm eA lot of energy and self/crossroads…cool.
I can see metaphysical, but I also detect very strong existential notes.
But then, existentialism is one’s personal metaphysics, here+now. Some
accounting is happening, some ownership. Somewhere high up in the
pulleys, I see a Dostoevsky-like wrassling with the forces of inner nature.
February 15th, 2007 at 2:22 am eJim, I think those are the window washers.
Sorry, couldn’t resist. I’ll go back into my hole now.
February 15th, 2007 at 2:43 am ehehe…
The pic is curious..
“Plato and Aristotle”, by Sanzio.
Plato points up to ideals, Aristotle down to hard evidence.
Ari’s book has “ETI..” on the spine. No doubt ethics, not etiquette.
But Plato’s says “TIMBO” ? now….what is “TIMBO”..??
February 15th, 2007 at 2:52 am eOops, you asked that Tim. It’s been out at a Philosophy forum
for an hour, to no reply…the mystery of TIMBO.
I missed the baby poems at first….intriguing. Prolly not moi.
February 15th, 2007 at 4:16 am eAha!
“TIMBO” is actually “TIMEO”.
and that is the Italian
for “Timaeus”, Plato’s joint on how the
Universe was all made of ideal shapes and forms.
February 16th, 2007 at 1:38 am eThanks for the research Jim. (Damn, and here I was thinking I was one of Plato’s ideals. I see my name everywhere.)
I read the poem again, and I love it-such a distinct voice.
February 16th, 2007 at 3:57 am eIf you don’t have Amy’s “Antidotes for an Alibi” yet,
that’s a nice way to carry the juggernautics with you.
It’s about half like “Never is Less” and half like a more
zaggy, less narrative but mimegenic-psychoactive form.
(that is, the mind jinks to fill in a likely tale that fits the
discontinuity).
February 17th, 2007 at 5:50 pm etag