I found Gillian Wigmore's poetry interesting in that it was often based on her surroundings, or places she had once been.
As well, perhaps, as Eve Joseph in her book The Secret Signature of Things.
I tried to take out some of the concrete-esque, authory words in this one. I guess we'll see.
Through my bedroom window
Through slatted platforms
coloured pointillism
until the slate shine of water
at the edge of my eye’s reach
like arms of a mother
nature’s monoliths
bracelets of cotton
stout; immovable; ever-shifting
beyond it all
carried on heron’s wings
emptiness I cannot comprehend
infinity—yet
not empty space
as my mind would perceive
each dot a home
a different story waiting to be told
coloured pointillism
until the slate shine of water
at the edge of my eye’s reach
like arms of a mother
nature’s monoliths
bracelets of cotton
stout; immovable; ever-shifting
beyond it all
carried on heron’s wings
emptiness I cannot comprehend
infinity—yet
not empty space
as my mind would perceive
each dot a home
a different story waiting to be told
I had to shrink that picture down to about 1/8th the size. Apparently, Googler hates pictures.
ReplyDeleteIt is good to see more people talking about Gillian's works. I didn't feel like she got a lot of our attention (it is possible that I missed a class full of her, though).
ReplyDeleteFor the poem, props on using a proper em-dash. That will never stop making me happy to see. Secondly: your poem is entirely lower-case letters, less the word "Through" in the title and the first line. Is leaving those two instances of that word a capital letter on purpose? If so, why so?