1. i am Heliotrope,
    face to the sun.
  2. when You smile,
    i feel like falling down.
  3. i am Waterlily,
  4. You are Ripple,
    quietly disturbing.
  5. i am many stones;
    we sit.
  6. we are aphelion,
    and cold.
  7. You are Helios,
    riding the sun.
  8. we are tall constructs,
    drawn shadows.
  9. when You smile,
    we all fall down.
§416 · June 12, 2005 · Tags: ·

7 Comments to “æm xiii {i am Heliotrope}”

  1. S4R says:

    There’s just nothing in poetry for me. I have stronger emotional responses reading the back of cereal boxes. :(

  2. Ben says:

    Well, sure, because it’s wrapped in an æsthetic. But that’s like saying that complex movies aren’t good because they are complex. Emily Dickinson could have written 1-line poems that went “Hey, I’m definitely feeling some angst here—” but she didn’t. See my point?

  3. Ben says:

    Lina’s like that, too. Guess it’s just me and X and demontalented.

  4. S4R says:

    I can certainly understand a love for words and language, but poetry to me comes across as a means to not really say what you’re trying to say.

  5. S4R says:

    Poetry is often presented as a powerful form of personal expression, the key word being expression. But poets — it seems to me — hide behind this aesthetic you describe. I know you’ll despise this analogy, but I think it works. Jesus expressed disdain to his disciples for misinterpreting and misunderstanding his teachings. Fine, but at a certain point they should have told him to stop speaking in parables or fuck off.

  6. Ben says:

    Different aims, however. If one is teaching, as is the case with Jesus or, say, an academic paper, then clear and concise language is necessitated. But part of the allure of poetry is its verbal masturbation, its manipulation of words and sounds. The idea is, I might be saying something unoriginal, but I’m saying it in an original way.

  7. S4R says:

    I can see your argument, but it’s not the way poetry has been presented to me often.

    Carl: I don’t get all this eyeball stuff. Uh, what are they
    supposed to represent? Uh, eyeballs?
    Moe: It’s po-mo! [blank stares from all]
    Post-modern! [more staring]
    Yeah, all right — weird for the sake of weird.

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