Monday, February 19, 2007


Suppose this time is called dying
And you are waiting to be reborn.
Do you wonder, perhaps, who is
Coming with you, what it will look like
Standing on the other shore

Your friends are folded up in the closet
Summer linens grown too thin
At dinner parties they tell
The same stories you’ve heard
Fifteen times before

How brave poor baby Danny was
The time they took him shopping
Never complaining
All the time his little toe
Bent backwards in his shoe

Pay no attention to the
Gesturing behind the curtain
It is possible you are dreaming
It is an illusion in your dying
There is no one really there

The winter sunlight submerges
Your kitchen in amber hues
Note the long icicles
The rows of golden cornstalks
Peeking through fields of snow


Talia said...

I like this, Charmi. It feels like a mouthful of meaty stuff...lots to chew on.

Charmi said...

I suppose...

It is getting closer to some of the things I'd like to say. It probably needs some revision. I wrote this in the English lounge yesterday. I'm learning a lot about my personal process. Some things I gruel over for weeks, others just come out whole, effortless. Is writing like that for you? Sometimes the effortless things are much better than the grueling things. So what's the purpose of sitting down every day with the muse if she's going to come and go as she pleases?

Talia said...

Yes, I think its like that with me. Sometimes I am so full of emotions, excitement, anger, whatever, that I can sit down and it pours out of me. For the most part, the best things I have written have come in those moments, and seem to need little revision. That is how I used to think one had to write, but (after my independent study with David) I learned that it really takes practice, like any craft. By studying poetry and practicing poetry, it becomes a way of life, and when the muse decides to show up, great things happen. Also, like we talked about yesterdeay, I think being a poet (or any writer, or maybe any artisit) is how you look at life, seeing it through your lens.

Jesus said...


just member I'm not a poetry guy-

The 2nd 3rd and 5th stanzas are strong, the 4th is borderline cliche and what you want us to take away from the poem.

i love the image of the kid and the toe and the final image of snow and corn.

Your voice is strong in this poem.

Charmi said...

Jesus -

Good advice. You have a good ear/eye. I'll work on that stanza.