Sunday, February 07, 2010

Apparition Poems


#1596

I was talking to a dude
I knew from school, I
said, “I see the levels
from sleeping with
psychopaths, that’s
how I get them,” levels
were (I meant) places
between souls where
spaces open for metaphor,
“but when I carry them
over to my bed, every
psychopath levels me.”


#1605

This killer wears a tight
black shirt, glasses. There
are noises of digging happening
from the bathroom, she’s in
bed, hands over her mouth,
frozen upset. Then, the mirror
is dug through, his face appears
in a wall with a square cut in it.
The face is there, hovers there,
just sits, it has the promise of
action that kills. This is the
tableau I watch every time
I’m in the bathroom while
she’s in bed. And smile.


#1625

The "I" that writes cannot be
(he told us, perched on a hill of
flowers which he crushed, but, of
course, incompletely, and not all of
them at once) strictly for-itself as it
has no substance: a student walked

up, pricked his forearm (the back side
of it) with a small razor, he cringed but
only briefly, leaning forward so that a
row of buttercups doused him yellow.
The "I" that writes has a relationship
that is very much for itself, but it has

a strictly independent existence, so that
what constitutes a human "I" has no
meaning for it. Now, you need to know
this: I was not the student with the razor,
but I supplied the razor to the student
that cut the professor's forearm, but you

will never know how I got it, or why.

2 comments:

kdada said...

"teeth i tell her." and if that were your answer i would agree with you. what makes a good poem. bc your hunger is what counts, what makes the air stand still, what makes timelessness out of art. the ppl: know well when they've finally been fed. bc we're all hungry as hell, but how many of us are brave enough to keep tearing after it? hunger, voracious maybe even criminal hunger is what counts. my mom who i am working on being friends w said i came on way tooo strong in my response to you on my blog. i didn't, it wasn't too strong, it was just ingenuine: whatever about all the other stuff, we're all the voice of the oppressed i think. what matters is if we're brave enough to talk about it.

Adam Fieled said...

Thanks, Kelly.

Adam Fieled

 

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