i'm not really here

Epictetus was right.
APRIL 16, 2011 4:11PM

books for the dead

Rate: 19 Flag

(i wonder if the dead read, what with all that time available) 

 

were i to cry
until dissolution
until misery laughed open-mouthed
the loss of all appetites, bliss--
stilled tumult of heart
space between ribs dull
gone the ache
a nice cavity emptied
cleaned
filled with cotton or straw
smelling sweetly of incense
face covered, painted hands
crossed over chest
waiting

copyright 2011 vanessa seijo

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I see the "Eliot-ness," Vanessa, or at least reading your poem I get the kind of shudder I get with so much of Eliot's work--especially that pregnant concluding word, "waiting." And the adjective "nice" in "nice cavity"--perfect choice!
what with all that time available.....

They are surely mixing it up in the day to day .... mostly on their own terms.
Maybe it's the books that are waiting... for yet more attention, aunque sea de ojos aguados...
i was once etherized on a table
for kicks
and reached the still point
of the turning world,
neither flesh nor fleshless,
neither from nor towards,
where the dance is...

little damn good it did me: i was paralyzed!
waiting for the surgeon to stuff my
hollow chest
with straw.

i didn't cry. it was a relief being stuffed.
i whimpered a bit, that's all.
vanessa of the great words that make magic when they are all strung together.
rated with hugs
Almost makes corpse-hood a thing devoutly to be wished. Almost. Not quite.
Oh! So Eliot-ish. I love you both.~r
"Let us go then, you and I..."

but perhaps not just yet.

;)
Wow, this painted such a vivid picture for me.r
Your poetry is hauntingly beautiful with various levels of meaning and layers. It's the sort of poetry that one finds herself wanting to read more and again.
The smell. It's always the smell.
Rated.
"the loss of all appetites"; "gone the ache." True, it would seem--but that suggests that the dead would not read, for since most of literature is about appetites and emotions, heartache (and sometimes joy), it would all be foreign to them. Unless they remembered, but they still could not feel.

Maybe they read accountant's ledgers . . . .
Darn! I scrolled down a tad too far and saw Jerry's comment and got the kind of shudder I get seeing a perfect comment. Tuff act to follow. Good to see you here.
vanesa, Well they could choose from the Tibetan Book of the Dead and the Dead Sea Scrolls. :)

just kidding ...nice poem
Too much speaks to me here but nothing more than the "waiting."
if you have interest in it , take action !!!!!
{{w w w }} {{ happyshopping100 }} {{ com }}
your words coalesce

note: the dead are free to read sure

but the text will not be the familiar

,
How did I miss this? Me too: Eliot was one of my earliest poetic crushes. I've got a soft spot for Four Quartets, especially.

So many of your recent poems include the conditional tense - they're like signposts in uncharted territories.
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