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memory diving
OCTOGENARIAN

it's as if I've already passed away
 1
my flesh is a silent gust of wind
 2
that tries in vein to ruffle a leaf
 3
or raise a goose pimple on your back
 4
or command me to rise from the grave
 5
 
 
I am only memory now
 6
the distant sound of acceleration
 7
from a car that passed by long ago
 8
you may still see me
 9
but only in places like sitting ontop of a coke machine
 10
leaning over
 11
watching the present move farther and farther away
 12
 
 
my head is an ocean of the past
 13
a place where I immerse myself
 14
to look at the blurry moments of what's gone
 15
with the constant mock of seagulls above
 16
in their relentless pursuit of the future
 17
 
 
I move as close as I can to car alarms
 18
as if the volume of them could startle me
 19
back into existence
 20
but there is only what's passed away
 21
it turns in my mind like an old, looping film reel
 22
that never changes
 23
only starts again at the beginning after it ends
 24
with a picture that's a little fuzzier than before
 25

28 Feb 12

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Comments:

you have a nice sense of cadence. it's all about your saying something to somebody, and i don't know who, but it walks along without limping.

actually, it's all pretty trite and could really do with a careful re-read, looking at the implications of what you're saying -- seeing if they really have the aesthetic edge you're going for. the conceit -- causing things to be affected by the lingering spirit -- is good: we have no more place in that world, that banging grimace that walks by and throws a face at us as it passes...

the metamorphosis should be kept -- your skin is useless, but it's got sensation enough to force the will to act like a will and make you -- what? -- 'care', really... care enough to make the effort. the leaf: sticky thing left on a tree in winter.

stanza two drops into bathos, but i think it's only from 'i'm only a memory now', which is so cliche here. maybe something more active... like, 'i'm the distant sound of car accelerating long ago, to some other picnic. you'd see me sitting on the grass, watching the sea move farther and nearer; my head is an ocean of past and when.

.. in 18, it's not clear -- and i'm not energized enough by the wording or concept to make the leap and think it's 'metaphorical' beyond just something which is like something: are you moving towards 'car alarm' to hide in that hideous noise, or to set one off as a diversion for your own self-overwhelmed consciousness?

the film image at the end seems like a solution instead of something which rose out of the poem, an embedded image you'd been rolling in your mind and then brought to the surface.
 — cadmium

thanks for your comments and suggestions....i will think on them
 — OCTOGENARIAN

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