Thursday, September 28, 2006

I have no eyes anymore and as usual

I have no eyes anymore and as usual
I step out on my own. I believe I can still see colors

and faceless strangers like Petals
on a wet black bough


I see the red red
red of a leaf
on a tree, hanging, dying,

Man's conscience is the best
mnemonic device.

Sleight of hand, Blink
of an eye, Piece
of half-eaten cake...

You didn't suffer, didn't even
know.

The blood was smeared all over me
that evening, and your empty space
expanded, surrounded me
until I realized you weren't dead.

I never saw the sunrise after that.

Now sightless, in this half-life,
I sometimes strain to see my reflection
in a mirror;

The features I almost see, I swear,
are of your face.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh. Very interesting! What's all the drama about??
And I don't understand this line:
"Man's conscience is his best
pneumonic device."

Are you sure it's not supposed to be "consciousness"? And even then, what would that mean?

Luis said...

OMG! I did mean mnemonic... I didn't even look it up! I just thought I was right! Lol!

Luis said...

Erg,

So with the new word in place (god dammned HOMOnyms!) those lines should make a little more sense. A person's conscience reminds him, or her, of things...

TyREAL, thanks for the correction!

The poem is really a kind of fragment of a story. I think I've placed enough there to figure what the story is about, mostly.

I'm very happy with it.