Somehow Both Loud & Unseen
The light outside of my apartment
casts everything orange–shadows fall,
paint ascetic stripes along lone wall.
I wonder, can we fully ever know another
person’s heart
or is it all imago–
I feel like I call out
all the time, unheard
a little, my big body
all want and swell,
my voice somehow both
loud and unseen
like the echo of a child
yelling into a river gorge
or the buzz of a dryer
in a dying laundromat–
the gleaming
halogen outside my window
gives me these lonely thoughts.
Oh
what I’m saying is
if I could melt into the shade sometimes
and be on the other side
of everywhere, I would
be such a fan of the entire world, it’s many
corners: enhabit every pocket
of the place:
the dots on i-s, the narrow
under each Venetian blind.
33 thoughts on "Somehow Both Loud & Unseen"
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OMG I LOVE this! You fully capture that orange glow vibe and the weird underbelly of thoughts it provokes. I really like how you make that explicit with “gives me these lonely thoughts” (and that whole stanza) after the abstractions and associative leaps earlier. And “Oh” on its own line is perfect. And the tiiiiny little details at the end. And “my big body / all want and swell” – love. Great work!
(I’m not sure we can ever really know another person’s heart. Or, truly, our own. These pesky things seem to be a moving target.)
Thank you so much, Emily. And I agree with you! People and ourselves are always shifting, trying to communicate need somehow
The dryer metaphor and the river 💀
This might be my favorite one this season. The intentionality is impeccable and brilliant.
Thank you, Sam! It is a bit different for me this month–I’m glad you liked it!
PRIMO!!
Thanks so much, Dustin!
Wow, just beautiful! I really enjoyed this. It reminded me just a tad of Bukowski at his most appreciative, or a wandering Japanese monk…
“On the other side of everywhere” really tickles me.
This one has so many feels. Good work!
Thanks so much, Jerielle! I appreciate those kind and generous comparisons.
Beautiful, Shaun. That last stanza is killer.
Thanks so much, Kevin!
love the melancholy without being overly sentimental: the candor and honesty come across beautifully. the layout on the page and line breaks lead the reader slowly through the poem
Thank you so much, Dr. Bedetti!
“if I could melt into the shade sometimes
and be on the other side
of everywhere, I would”
I love where your words take me! New thoughts in my brain now when I open the blinds each morning!
Thank you so much, Sylvia!
Yes to all, especially Gaby.
What a pleasure to read
your poetry.
I just want to get inside
and hang out for a bit
Thank you, Jim!
Beautiful, vulnerable and love the expression of deep thoughts.
Thank you Linda!
Love this so much, Shaun.
“on the other side/ of everywhere” sings to me and should be the title of a collection.
Thanks, Joseph! I love that idea for a title!
Love the musing, the meditative mood, the tenderness. Gave me chills.
Thanks so much, Karen!
I like everything about this poem, like all of yours, but that last stanza with its “Oh” & the “narrow under each venetian blind” gets me.
Thanks, Taunja! I appreciate your kind words.
What a great powerhouse of a poem. It’s really moving, as most of your work is, and so complete. As has been said, so many feels.
Thanks so much, Bill.
It’s a sad poem, until it’s a hopeful poem. (And hope is a good thing in these times.) I admire poets who can dig deep and share so much of themselves. Well done!
Thank you so much, Lee! Sad and hopeful is/can be a tenuous balance.
Exquisite:
if I could melt into the shade sometimes
and be on the other side
of everywhere
Thank you, Pam. 💛
The third stanza is so, so good! And the poem as a whole feels like the essence of staring out a window on a rainy day, if that makes sense. Lovely work.
Thank you, Maira! I love that idea–of looking out a window!