Wow. This poem makes me feel a lot of fear. I remember you describing this moment to me on the phone, so it's really wild to see it now as poetry with each moment expanded. A few lines really stand out to me: "and I barely feel a pinch
as my other self
severs"
and
"hotel hair wash
lobby coffee
morning sprinkler petrichor" (this is the precise loneliness and horrible feeling I have when I'm in LA)
and this was funny and felt so true, to me: "a clattering
wayward cog"
I have never lived this moment but I have felt versions of this terrible alienation in the worlds of music theatre and while filing my taxes at H & R Block. that feeling of wanting to scream and wake everyone up and cause chaos and liberate yourself. Brave of you always to be able to spelunk into this kind of world and still hold onto yourself/be able to observe the severing and stay grounded in your truth.
It took me forever to figure out this poem, Leah. Some phrases were opaque:
"will the watchword to ripcord up and out my throat" ???
"Humming static of the parking garage" ??
"fresh-shorn babes with comb-stiff whorls"?
"Damp narcotic vapors"???
The gist I get, despite the obscure references, is that you were undergoing a corporate orientation. You were staying in a hotel but being taken by van or some similar conveyance to the orientation activities. You were wanting to be anywhere but in corporate America. You wanted to escape into nature., Is that about the gist of it?
I had a similar feeling when I worked at a bank, summers when I was in college. It was boring work in a big windowless room. It killed me that it was a beautiful summer day outside but I was sealed in this tomb. I wrote a poem about it at the time, asking why the sun was shining if people weren't appreciating it. To this day, that's the reason why I can't stand matinees. It seems to me that there is something perverse about being in this dark room, looking at electronic images, while the real world is going on outside.
Did I getthe gist of it? At least I know what petrichor means.
Wow. This poem makes me feel a lot of fear. I remember you describing this moment to me on the phone, so it's really wild to see it now as poetry with each moment expanded. A few lines really stand out to me: "and I barely feel a pinch
as my other self
severs"
and
"hotel hair wash
lobby coffee
morning sprinkler petrichor" (this is the precise loneliness and horrible feeling I have when I'm in LA)
and this was funny and felt so true, to me: "a clattering
wayward cog"
I have never lived this moment but I have felt versions of this terrible alienation in the worlds of music theatre and while filing my taxes at H & R Block. that feeling of wanting to scream and wake everyone up and cause chaos and liberate yourself. Brave of you always to be able to spelunk into this kind of world and still hold onto yourself/be able to observe the severing and stay grounded in your truth.
Emma, I love you. We understand each other ❤️ Thank you for reading!
Very evocative and kinda scary. Great imagery!
Thanks! It didn’t feel scary at the time.
Escape?
Say more?
Now you are oriented. I can see that shadow, too.
<waves hello to your shadow>
It took me forever to figure out this poem, Leah. Some phrases were opaque:
"will the watchword to ripcord up and out my throat" ???
"Humming static of the parking garage" ??
"fresh-shorn babes with comb-stiff whorls"?
"Damp narcotic vapors"???
The gist I get, despite the obscure references, is that you were undergoing a corporate orientation. You were staying in a hotel but being taken by van or some similar conveyance to the orientation activities. You were wanting to be anywhere but in corporate America. You wanted to escape into nature., Is that about the gist of it?
I had a similar feeling when I worked at a bank, summers when I was in college. It was boring work in a big windowless room. It killed me that it was a beautiful summer day outside but I was sealed in this tomb. I wrote a poem about it at the time, asking why the sun was shining if people weren't appreciating it. To this day, that's the reason why I can't stand matinees. It seems to me that there is something perverse about being in this dark room, looking at electronic images, while the real world is going on outside.
Did I getthe gist of it? At least I know what petrichor means.
You did get the gist!