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Running late as usual...



Straight lines - cyclical, circular -
from this lost point to that, these
understandings shared, shaken,
blurred boundaries, between
false certainty and freedom.
Consensual constraints,
Socially structured.

Neurotypical. Non negotiable.
Consensus based and cruel.

(Oh, I did not agree to share these falsehoods
And I am not the only one refusing)

Between this point and that
Runs more than one route

Between this lie and that
Lives more than one learning

Between this minute and that
My mind means madness

Cyclical, circular, unseeming

Time travelling
Lost, alone,
And, as usual,
Late

(Which is, you know, another word for dead)

Fatally flawed

Look back in longing
From this point to that

In time
In retrospect
In perspective
On time

Date: 2010-12-06 03:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] oxfordgirl.livejournal.com
I will have to chew over this one several times more before I have it fixed in my head, but an initial reading was very enjoyable. Thank you!

Date: 2010-12-09 04:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] eldritchreality.livejournal.com
Thanks!

I think this has just been the trigger I needed to understand why I just can't seem to /get/ poetry.

It's the lack of paragraphs. I'm a massively kinaesthetic thinker, and I hadn't realised how heavily that carried across to my understanding of the written word.

Words that haven't been semantically ordered by their spatial relationships leave me scrabbling at the page and totally unable to process what I'm looking at.

It was your first line that gave me the ephiphany. I keep looking at and my mind just keeps sliding off it. Like a moth-kinden trying to understand a steam engine.

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