It begins with the intricate branching, the sound of them, humming, and how the light seems to hold them in clouds, the dark reticulation, of hide, and how the shadows ebb, to give the impression that Relativity is indeed general, and their brittle coarseness of oak spindle fingers, the browning and the turning of the lobes, how crevices open like cuckoo-clocks, where sometimes wooden birds take refuge in nests, dried grasses and broken twigs, the hair of people, lint, feathers, an odd piece of twine, fibers ever more fine, hinting at intricacy, affirming, the unfathomable, ever reducing the incredible, shrinking man, to greater depths of mystery, filling the universe with stars, beyond measure, beyond reach, beyond comprehension, beyond the hillside, where an oak, clings, an oak, beneath which stands another, softer version of tree; a manufactured vastness, following, a hat-sized planetarium, I wear, to hold myself together, a sea of swirling molecules, in a Ziploc™ bag, a patented technology is proof, that an anthill can be conquered, with a single blade of grass gently licked, gingerly dipped, by means of a right clever mutation, repeated, over and over like a phrase, from a song, stuck in a groove, in a scratch on a record playing in a long empty room; until finally you see that everything is a package, and every package is selling something, and that something is the notion, of you.


8 thoughts on “Faeom

  1. I like it very much, language poetry(?). Is it published first in a language poetry journal and then published here? If not, you must save it for that. It deserves their seal of approval and enjoyment before we get to see it. You are as good as a poet should be. High quality. Excellence. I just hope you are among your peers.

    • Thanks again for your lovely feedback Mario. Nothing I post here is published anywhere else, with a couple of small exceptions where I have recycled some essays from Stone Voices magazine. I write out of desperation and need, with no eye toward publication. Affirmation, I find, must come from myself. No human can give that to me, unless that human loves me and knows me, but even then I try not to take it to heart. Opinions and approvals don’t mean anything. Only I know what I’m trying to convey, and most of the time I don’t ven know that.

      • I don’t waste feedback usually. I either love something or hate it. I know you write out of desperation and need, as do I. But imagine doing this love for money? I can’t imagine that you really like having another job that isn’t like this. There are only so many hours in the day. You have to move toward your true self. So far, I can tell the quality of your work. Affirmation comes from sharing your gift. It is almost obligatory. You are like a doctor of the mind. Your words remind others of the depth and complexity of life, how to see it with such richness. Haven’t you noticed how the corporate heads spin reality, for example, and how the masses are drawn away from this beauty and respect for words? There is more to your gift. As a writer, I know they are not my words, I am only a conduit. They aren’t me, I only verify that they feel good and true. As writers, we don’t need to be affirmed as you say, but we need to work within the structure of society and be examples of the craft. A citizen speaks the truth in forums provided. He does not “sit” at home. I see your great gifts. Would someone please verify that I am correct about Serpentbox’s talents.

        Actually, when you use the English language and follow its rules, conveyance is contingent upon what you’ve actually said. What you wanted to say is something you can work on if it isn’t quite right. We can interpret our own way, but there is an interpretation inherent in the words.

        I am just saying that you are being called if you continue to listen and write the way you have. Do you realize your politics inherent in the things you say? The truth is a powerful thing.

      • Again, much thanks Mario. You have your own gift and I think it may be the love you share (among other things).

        I think what I’m saying is that I don’t worry about the money part. Not that I don’t need it. Not that I don’t want it. If I could figure out how to throw that magical switch I would. But you know, I wrote a damn novel. It was published by a major house. It got solid reviews and readers loved it. Nothing. Crickets. It took me 7 years to write it and in the end it was because I NEEDED to write it and that’s all I can ask for. You want to sponsor me? I sure use a sugar daddy. : )

      • So, you’ve done it, then yes. As for the sugar daddy role, I could get you some candy from a dispenser and that would have to hold you. Love that you were published through a major house. That’s all one could ask. It also proves that I could tell that you had the gift. I wonder if the novel was as well written as your poetry-prose? Very good to know you. I try to do the research on my own, as far as your name is concerned and location. If you are in this area, I would love to be your friend. It would be nice to talk to someone, who writes in a way that I respect.

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